


(I've Been Going Through) A Change

by owlmug



Series: I Took Both Roads [4]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game), Life Is Strange 2 (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 09:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmug/pseuds/owlmug
Summary: Summer is almost over, and Esteban is excited to go on a camping trip with his sons. He should know by now, though, that nothing ever goes according to plan.[High School AU]





	(I've Been Going Through) A Change

**Author's Note:**

> This is Part Four of a Life Is Strange 2 High School AU where Finn lives in Seattle. This story takes place after "A Little Left Behind," but before the final scene of, "A Way To Reappear."
> 
> Finn's blue hair is inspired by this piece of fanart by the incredibly talented Bloodwrit, to whom I owe so much. Thank you for being a constant source of inspiration, Bloodwrit!  
https://bloodwrit.tumblr.com/post/185193875840/some-alternate-hair-cuts-for-finn-that-i-did-with

_Midnight driving through the bay,_  
_going back on the road_  
_ Coming up and I wish I could stay_  
_ I've been sleeping alone_  
_ I've been going through a change_  
_ I might never be sure_  
_ I'm just walking in a haze_  
_ I'm not ready to turn_  
_ No woman…_  
_ No woman..._

*

“Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad!”

Esteban suppresses a laugh. Barely. The boys have been distracted for an hour, but the minute Papito starts to get any actual _work_ done…

“Yes, yes, yes, yes?” he replies, smiling at his youngest son.

Daniel stops just short of the driveway. He doesn’t return Esteban’s smile.

“Chris forgot to bring a swimsuit.”

“That’s alright, _mijo_. He can borrow one of yours.”

Daniel lifts his arms and lets them drop. “I don’t _have_ another one.”

“What? Yes, you do.” Esteban shuffles through the laundry in his mind, and he can see the swim shorts he bought Daniel last year, and the old pair of Sean’s covered in brightly-colored fish. Daniel hasn’t grown too much. They should still fit.

“Go look again, _mijo_.”

“_Fiiine_,” Daniel groans, tilting back his head in exasperation. Esteban wants to laugh again. Sean was at least fourteen before he started giving his dad that look.

Daniel runs into the house, and Esteban turns back to Sam’s minivan. He’s got to empty out the back seat before tomorrow; that was the deal, after all. _If_ _you can clean it, you can borrow it!_

Esteban pulls a phone out of his pocket and taps the _Speaker_ button. It rings loudly; Esteban places it on the back seat while he cleans.

The ringing stops. Esteban can hear the sounds of Sean’s video game.

“Uh, yeah?” Sean asks, clearly distracted.

“Do you know what happened to your old swimsuit? The one with the fish.”

“Mm… no. Not really.”

“Well, can you help your brother look for it? Sounds like we need a spare.”

Sean sighs on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, okay.”

“Thanks, _hijo_! Oh—and can you make sure we’ve got enough sunscreen?”

“Anything else?” Sean grumbles, because he had a long day at work, and because he’s sixteen and nothing is fair.

“I love you!” Esteban says, grinning at his phone.

“Oh my _god_.”

The call ends, but Esteban doesn’t stop smiling.

Sam’s minivan is almost clean. It wasn’t that dirty to begin with; Sam only really uses it on weekends when he has his kids. Mostly Esteban just had to throw out the orange rinds left over from a half-dozen soccer practices, and put air in the tires.

Okay. Van, ready. Esteban crosses that off the list inside his head. Next, he needs to load up the camping gear, piled in the middle of the garage. That takes a while; long enough that he can hear Chris and Daniel cheering with excitement. They must’ve found the swimsuit.

Esteban stands back to survey his work. Tents, sleeping bags, lanterns, canteens—check. Food? In a box on the kitchen counter. Clothes? The boys are packing up right now. Anything they’ve forgotten, Esteban can probably find at a gas station—along with some really bad coffee.

Mmm. Rest-stop coffee. Stale. Burnt. Disgustingly bitter.

It’s gonna be _great_.

Inside, Esteban finds a living room brimming with chaos. It’s a good kind of chaos, like a hurricane of love, as equally warm as it is destructive. Chris and Daniel are running in circles, waving plastic toys in the air, and Sean is on the couch with a video game. Every time his little brothers shout, Sean cranks the volume on his game, which makes the boys shout even louder.

Something clatters in the kitchen. Finn, shuffling pots and pans. He spots Esteban at the staircase and waves.

“Hey Pop! I thought I’d get dinner goin’!” he says, barely audible over the commotion.

“Thanks!” Esteban calls back.

“What?”

“I said, _thanks_!” Esteban shouts. Then: “Sean! Think you can turn it down?”  
  
Sean gestures at Chris and Daniel. “Tell _them_ to stop screaming!”

Daniel notices his father at last. He stops dead. “Dad! We found Sean’s old swimsuit!”

“That’s great, _mijo_—“

“But the sunscreen is all dried up. The bug spray, too!”

“_Aaand_ we’re basically out of toothpaste…” Chris adds, rubbing his neck like that’s his fault, somehow.

Esteban raises his hands in a calming motion. “Okay, okay. Let’s start a list. We’ll make one last run to Z-Mart in the morning, yeah?”

Daniel bounces with excitement. He shoots a look at Chris and they both run off, already shouting about their game. Yeah, don’t worry about the grocery list! Papito will take care of it.

Lists. That’s what Esteban’s life is. That’s what _parenting_ is. A long list of chores that will never, ever get done.

Not that he wants it to.

Sunscreen. Bug spray. And what else? Oh, right, toothpaste. Esteban scribbles it all down on a sheet of paper in the kitchen. Finn moves around him, laying out cups and plates for dinner. No one asked him to do that—he just likes helping.

That’s one of the really great things about Finn. He’s mature in ways Sean simply isn’t. He understands that dinner won’t happen all on its own. He knows how to pay bills, and fills up his gas tank _before_ it runs empty.

Now, if only he could put his dishes in the sink…

When the food’s ready, everyone gathers around the counter. They have six stools now; it used to be just four, until Finn moved in. The new chairs, Esteban found at a garage sale real cheap. Finn helped him clean them up.

This is probably the best moment of Esteban’s day. This, right here—when everyone gathers for dinner, drawn to the counter like little planets caught in the same orbit. That’s what his boys are, really. Planets. Disparate and distinct, each swirling with their own climate, their own weather. Their own rocky terrain. Esteban’s old enough to know that he’s not the center of their universe, but when they gather at his counter, he feels like it. He feels like the sun, filling up his children with warmth and light.

It’s Taco Night. That means the counter is already a mess of salsa and shredded cheese. Chris spills hot sauce… pretty much everywhere.

“Ugh! I look like a zombie!” Chris says, flexing his red-stained hands at Daniel. Finn reaches over with a fistful of napkins.

“Here, Cap’n, lemme help.”

Finn scrubs him clean, then steals a bite off his plate. Chris shouts _Hey!_ and shoves him, earning a laugh from Finn. They look just like brothers, with their easy smiles and matching blue hair, but they’re not related. Chris is Daniel’s friend, visiting for the summer, and Finn is…

Well.

Finn is Finn.

“Is there more chicken?” Daniel asks. Esteban’s only half-way through his first taco, but Daniel’s already demolished three.

“On the stove, _mijo_.”

“Yes!” Daniel lunges out of his chair like a little wolf on the hunt. “Good thing Lyla isn’t here! There wouldn’t be _any_ tacos left!”

“How is Lyla?” Esteban asks, looking at Sean. He hasn’t said anything in a while. It’s easy for Sean to fall into the background, especially these last few weeks, with so much noise in the house.

Sean shrugs. “I dunno. Her camp has wifi, but she doesn’t text very much… Too busy, or whatever.”

He sounds disappointed. Missing his best friend, probably.

“Does she like being a counselor?”

“I guess so,” Sean says, looking at his food. “Sounds like her coworkers are kind of cool. They have a lot of parties.”

Oh, so that’s it. He’s jealous. Sean’s stuck here, working at Z-Mart and babysitting all summer, while Lyla’s in the woods having parties.

“Maybe you can sign up with her next year,” Esteban says.

“And be surrounded by screaming kids all day? No thanks.”

The curl of Sean’s lip makes Esteban blink. His brow furrows with concern.

“Everything good between you two?”

“Yeah. We’re great.”

Something’s wrong. The look on Finn’s face confirms it. Esteban touched a nerve, some argument between Sean and Lyla that no one told him about.

“I bet she misses you as much as you miss her,” Esteban says, hoping it’s what Sean needs to hear. “It’s like you said, she’s just busy.”

Sean slides off his stool, taking his plate to the sink. “Yeah, I know.”

He looks so sad. Lonely, even. It makes Esteban’s heart ache, because he used to know someone just like that, someone who could be in a room full of people and still look terribly alone. He wants to say something, but Sean’s already gone, closing the door to his room.

Damn.

Esteban looks at Finn, but Finn doesn’t look at Esteban. He taps his fork against the counter before turning to Chris. “Hey, d’ju read the new Hawt Dog Man?”

Chris and Daniel shout _Yeah!_ at the same time, immediately talking over each other. Esteban can’t help but stare at Sean’s empty stool.

This is… normal, right? Not talking? Needing space? It’s… nothing personal, just part of growing up.

Daniel tugs on Esteban’s arm.

“Dad! _Daaad_.”

“_Whaaat_?” Esteban grins, turning his full attention to Daniel—or, trying to.

“We’re gonna go fishing, right? In the river?”

“Of course we are!”

“Cool!” Daniel says. “I’m gonna catch _all_ the fish.”

“Not if I catch ‘em first,” says Finn.

“Wait, can we actually _eat_ the fish?” Daniel asks, equally horrified and delighted at the thought.

“Ew, no way!” says Chris. His expression is just like Sean’s when he was that age, watching Esteban gut a trout. Like he couldn’t believe that’s where _food_ comes from. “I wanna go fishing, but… I don’t wanna kill anything.”

“You can toss the fish back,” Esteban tells him. Chris sighs with relief.

After dinner, while Esteban scrubs the dishes and Daniel tries to stuff just _one more_ toy into his backpack, Finn volunteers to pick up the sunscreen and bug spray.

“I’ll go with you,” Sean says, utterly failing to mask his excitement. Z-Mart’s usually the last place Sean wants to be after a long shift, but he’ll go just to get some time with Finn. They’ll probably smoke in the parking lot. Get cronked or… whatever the kids call it.

“Drive safe, okay?” Esteban says, even though it makes him feel ninety years old. Might as well wrap him up in a shawl and plant him in rocking chair. He can shout at everyone for playing their music too loud, just like Abuelita.

Finn juggles his car keys from one hand to the other. “Hey, I always drive safe!”

“_That’s_ a debate for another time,” Esteban says. “Oh—hang on!”

He adds one more thing to the grocery list. Chock-o-crisps. He’ll pretend that it’s a treat for the boys, but really, he’s been craving chocolate all day.

“Later!” Finn says, walking backwards towards the door. Sean follows him silently. Doesn’t wave. Doesn’t say goodbye to his dad. It makes something unfair rise up in Esteban, something tied to the day he found a letter on his pillow.

“Hey, Seanie-boy!” he cries, opening his arms wide. “Can _papito_ get a hug before you go?”

Sean rolls his eyes. “Dad, c’mon…”

Esteban wavers. His arms drop, but his smile doesn’t. “Hey, no big deal. Not everyone’s cool enough to hug their old man.”

“I’m cool ‘nuff!” Finn cries, shoving his way past Sean. He wraps Esteban in a crushing hug.

“Thanks, _mijo_,” Esteban laughs. His arms fold around Finn’s back, and Finn holds him even tighter. Sean rolls his eyes again. He jangles impatiently, hands in his pockets.

“Alright, get out of here,” Esteban says. “And be home before midnight! We’ve got an early day tomorrow!”

Oh, god, did those words actually come out of his mouth? When did he get so old?

The front door isn’t even closed before Daniel shouts for _Dad_. Chris lost his colored pencils, and only Papito can find them.

At least the boys make him feel like a super hero afterwards, when he pulls Chris’ pencils from between the couch cushions. He poses for them like a _luchador_ and Daniel lunges at him.

“_Lucha-Dad_!” he laughs, swinging on Esteban’s arm like the branch of a tree.

A few years ago, Esteban could’ve lifted him with ease. Not so much anymore. His back aches in protest, and his heart aches for the days when Sean was ten and Daniel was three, and Lucha-Dad could carry them both at the same time.

He falls onto the couch with an exaggerated groan. “Sorry, Danny-boy. I think it’s time to retire Lucha-Dad.”

“Aww…” Daniel whines, but Chris’ eyes light up like fireworks.

“We’ll make you a _new_ super hero!” he says. “Something with cars!”

Daniel’s disappointment melts away at once. “Ooh, maybe a robot!”

Chris spills his colored pencils right there on the living room floor, along with several sheets of paper. His hands are already moving, unable to keep up with all the ideas running through his head. Daniel drops down to join him. Robo-Dad needs to be _super_ tall. And strong. And he has cars for feet!

“No, not ‘Robo-Dad!’” Chris says. “_Mechaban_!”

That’s the rest of Esteban’s evening; sitting on the floor with Chris and Daniel, watching them draw, and trying not to think about when he used to do the same with Sean.

*

It’s getting late. Finn and Sean still haven’t come home.

That’s alright. It’s not midnight yet. Besides, they’re young. Staying out past curfew is pretty much a universal rite of passage.

Esteban texts them anyway. If he’s gonna be a grandma, he might as well lean into it.

_Coming home soon, mijos_?

He gets two replies. Finn says, _On our way!,_ but Sean says, _We’re fine, don’t worry_.

Esteban only responds to Sean. _I’m not worried! Just impatient for candy!_

Hey, two things can be true.

He checks on the boys. They’ve been brushing their teeth for almost twenty minutes, which is probably why they ran out of toothpaste.

“Super Wolf’s gone rabid!” Chris shouts, as foam dribbles down Daniel’s chin. “Save him, Mechaban!”

“An oil-rag should take care of it,” Esteban says. He picks up a towel and tosses it at Daniel. “Come on, bedtime! ¡_Vámonos_!”

He reads to them before bed. Or, at least, he tries to. Storytime has gotten a lot more _interactive_ ever since Chris came to visit. Daniel used to listen silently, wide-eyed and enraptured as Esteban spun wild tales about little wolves in the forest, but Chris never wants to just listen. He wants to help tell the story, and make up his own ending.

Esteban doesn’t mind. Chris always knows how to make things bigger, cooler; if Esteban imagines a dragon, Chris will say its wings are made out of ninja swords and lightning.

“Goodnight, Dad!”

“Goodnight, Mechaban!”

“Sweet dreams_, niños_,” Esteban says. “Don’t keep each other up, okay?”

“We won’t!”

The boys make a pretty good show of pulling up the covers and closing their eyes, but the moment Esteban shuts the bedroom door, they burst into a fit of giggles.

The rest of the house is quiet, though. Without video games and music and petty arguments, everything just kind of… goes still.

It occurs to Esteban that there’s nothing left to do. The dishes are clean. The boys, tucked into bed. His list is done, for now.

It’s an odd feeling. Almost eerie. His bones go all soft, and his back starts to hurt again. It never really stopped hurting; he just couldn’t let himself feel it until this exact moment.

Esteban sinks into the couch like a stone. He closes his eyes, and almost falls asleep right there. Shit, he really is getting old. Night used to be _his_ time; he’d pay the babysitter, put the kids to bed, then stay up late doing all the stuff _he_ wanted to do. Video games. Books. Scary movies. It didn’t matter, really, so long as he could stop being _Dad_ for ten minutes, and just be Esteban.

That’s not really how it works, though. He’s always Dad, even when the kids are in bed, even when he’s drinking with Sam and not thinking about his children at all. He’s never off-duty.

He understands that better now than he did in his thirties. Karen—

Sean’s mother was really into _after hours_. That’s what she called it when they dumped Sean on a babysitter and rocked out at the Anvil Bar. He’d drag her home at three AM and mop her up, and in the morning, they’d wake up to the sound of Sean’s cartoons.

She said those nights were important. Not just for her own sanity, but for their relationship.

_I’m selfish_, she’d say. _Sometimes, I need you all to myself_.

Bullshit. She never needed anyone.

Esteban sighs, sinking deeper into the couch. He really needs this camping trip. He’ll still be _Dad_ out in the woods—there will still be chores to do, fights to mediate, dishes to clean—but things always seem to slow down around the campfire, in a way it never quite slows down at home.

He checks his watch. If Sean and Finn stay out too late, he’ll go to bed… but for now, Esteban will hold out for that chocolate bar.

He gropes blindly for something to read. There’s always a good book within reach of the couch—a rare benefit of Finn’s messiness.

He falls asleep before he finishes a page.

*

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz_.

Esteban jerks awake. _Shit_. That’s his alarm. Time to get up. Time to get dressed.

Wait, why is he on the couch? And why is it so dark outside?

It’s not his alarm. It’s his phone. Esteban answers it without even looking at the screen.

“_Hola_.”

“Dad?”

Esteban sits up at once. “Sean? What’s wrong?”

He’s already on his feet, crossing the house and throwing open the door to Finn’s room. Finn’s not in his bed.

“Sean, what happened? Where are you?”

A hiccup on the other end of the phone. “Dad… Y-You need to come pick me up…”

*

“Stay in the car, okay?”

Daniel nods. Chris doesn’t answer at all. He looks ghostly, all the color drained out of his pale face and his hair looking more grey than blue. His mother died in a car accident—or something like that. No one ever told Esteban the full story.

“It’s going to be alright,” Esteban says, because that’s what you say when these things happen, even if it’s not true. He reaches into the back seat, and grips both of their hands in only one of his. “You hear me? It’s going to be just fine.”

Daniel nods again, but Chris just stares out his window. He’s trapped in a story he cannot change, an ending he cannot rewrite.

The warm air provides little comfort as Esteban steps into the night. The street is lit by the flashing red and blue lights of a police car, and the headlights of Sam’s minivan.

Sean’s sitting on the curb with his forehead on his knees. There’s a plastic Z-Mart bag at his feet, filled with candy bars and bottles of sunscreen. Esteban doesn’t even realize that he’s running.

“Sean!”

He pulls the boy to his feet. Sean blinks at him.

“Dad,” he says emotionlessly. Esteban cups his face, searching him for injury.

“You okay?”

Sean blinks again, like he’s waking from a dream. “Y…Yeah…”

Esteban pulls him to his chest. He doesn’t care that Sean’s too _cool_ for hugs. He cradles Sean’s head and whispers, “Thank you, God…”

“Dad.”

Sean clutches Esteban’s shirt, suddenly urgent.

“Dad, it wasn’t Finn’s fault,” he says. “It wasn’t Finn’s fault!”

“I know, _mijo_.”

“Some _asshole_ came out of nowhere—“

“I know—“

“They won’t tell me anything! They put him in a fucking _ambulance_, and they won’t tell me—”

“_Shh_… It’s okay, _mijo_…”

Sean chokes. Hot tears soak Esteban’s shirt. He’s shaking so hard, trembling like he’s six and he just heard something in the forest, something big with sharp teeth that’ll gobble him up if Dad’s arms don’t protect him. And something in Esteban feels the exact same way; some piece of him is broken and crumbling, but the rest of him is made of metal and wires. That’s what he needs to be right now. Strong. Unshakable. Lucha-Dad. Mechaban.

A police officer touches his shoulder. Esteban pries Sean out of his grip.

“Wait here, okay? I’m gonna talk to them.”

Sean nods. He steps back, wiping his face with both palms. Just like that, he’s a teenager again, and he can’t let anyone see him cry.

There are two officers on the scene. Both men, both white. One of them is nervous in a way that sends prickles up Esteban’s spine, but the other one is actually kind of helpful. He releases Sean into Esteban’s care, obviously—Sean’s a minor, and his son—but won’t tell him anything about Finn.

Esteban tries to explain. Tries to tell them how Finn is practically family. He lives in Esteban’s house, eats at Esteban’s table.

But Finn’s an adult, and they have different last names, so the police can only tell him what’s on the report, which is a whole lot of nothing.

Esteban stares at Finn’s car. What’s left of it. The driver’s side is smashed in, though more on the back of the car than the front. It’s possible Finn escaped with minor injuries.

_Possible_.

It’s so strange, watching another tow truck hitch up Finn’s car and haul it away. That’s Esteban’s job. _Literally_. He’s the mechanic. He’s the one who fixes everything, the one who gave Finn a home and helped him off the jungle gym…

“What did they say?” Sean asks, as Esteban herds him towards the minivan. The plastic Z-Mart bag dangles from Esteban’s hand.

“Finn’s at the hospital.”

“Is he okay?”

Esteban hesitates. “I don’t know, _hijo_.”

In the car, Daniel asks the same question. Esteban’s answer is different, though.

“Finn’s fine. We just gotta go pick him up.”

He clicks his seatbelt into place, smiling at Chris and Daniel in the rearview mirror. Daniel smiles back, relieved, and even Chris manages a weak grin. Sean, though…

Sean pulls up the hood of his sweatshirt, sealing himself beneath it the way he shuts the bedroom door.

*

“My son came in about an hour ago— Car accident—”

The nurse behind the front desk reaches for a clipboard. “What’s his name?”

“Finn. Finn McNamara.”

“Is that short something?” she asks, flipping paper after paper.

“What?”

“Finnegan? Finneas?”

Oh.

Wait. Wait—he knows this.

Finn said it once. A while ago. They were on the couch, with Sean and Daniel, and Finn started doing his exaggerated Scottish accent—

“You don’t know?” the nurse asks, raising a brow. Esteban runs a hand through his hair.

“Can you… Can you just tell me how he is? Is he in surgery? Or—?”

The nurse sets her clipboard aside. “I can only discuss patient information with family members.”

“He’s my son!” Esteban snaps, even though it’s not her fault, and getting angry won’t help. He knows this, and yet his hands ball into fists. Why doesn’t anybody _understand_?

The nurse sighs. “Do you have ID? Any paperwork, proving relation?”

No, he doesn’t have any _paperwork_. But if she wants proof of relation, Esteban can cut out his own heart, the way only a father would do for his child.

He goes back to the waiting room. It’s mostly empty, and far, far too bright. Chris and Daniel look strange in their pajamas and sneakers, making half-hearted attempts to roll a toy car back and forth across the floor. Sean’s hunched over in a chair, hood still draw up around his head. None of them notice Esteban’s approach.

Shit. What is he supposed to tell them? That Finn’s somewhere in this building, bleeding, possibly dying, and there’s nothing Papito can do about it?

His back hurts. He wants to sit down. He wants to retire Lucha-Dad, but there is no retirement. He’ll carry these boys until they bury him in the dirt.

He claps his hands together, drawing their attention. “Good news and bad news. Finn’s doing alright, but they don’t know how long they’ll have to keep him. Could be an hour, could be more.”

“But he’s okay?” Chris asks. It’s the first time he’s spoken since he got in the minivan.

“Just fine,” Esteban says.

Chris reaches for Daniel, and they shove each other in an excited, playful motion. It’s like watching Winter melt into Spring; colorful flowers sprouting up where there was nothing but grey and white.

Sean can tell that he’s lying, though. He’s old enough to know how these things work; that the hospital doesn’t just hand out that kind of information. He glares at Esteban from beneath his hood and Esteban stares back, wordlessly pleading for mercy. Please, Sean. Don’t ruin this for them. They’re only ten years old. They _need_ this. 

Sean scoffs, but doesn’t say anything.

“Maybe you three should go home,” Esteban suggests. “Sean can drive. I’ll wait here, and—”

“Nooo!” Chris and Daniel whine.

“I told you, it could be a while-“

“I don’t care! I wanna wait!”

“Please, Dad? Pleeease?”

Esteban raises his hands in surrender. Against their sweet faces, he’s completely helpless.

He doesn’t sit. He just… can’t. He has to be up. He has to be _moving_. Esteban paces back and forth across the waiting room, never straying far from his sons.

“Dad?” Daniel says suddenly. “Are we still gonna go camping?”

“Who gives a shit?” Sean snaps.

“Hey!” Esteban says, earning another scoff from Sean. He plugs in a set of earbuds and looks down, hiding his face. Esteban sighs. “I don’t know, _mijo_. We’ll see, okay?”

He keeps pacing. He feels like the car Chris and Daniel keep rolling back and forth. For some reason, it starts to really get on Esteban’s nerves, so he widens his perimeter, pacing around the entire room in one long, unending loop.

Why hasn’t Finn texted? Or called? Did he lose his phone? What if it’s in his car? They’ll have to go to the impound tomorrow, and the police still want a statement from Finn—

Esteban rubs his face. Finn’s not even out yet, and Esteban’s already constructing a to-do list. As if a plan will help him control this. Help him _fix_ it.

He wants to laugh. He should know better by now. Nothing ever, _ever_ goes according to plan.

Esteban realizes that he can’t hear the toy car. Chris and Daniel have fallen asleep, right there on the floor. Half-smiling, Esteban drapes his coat over them, and finally sinks into a chair.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. _Dios mío_… What a night. And it’s not even over. Not even _close_.

His phone buzzes, and Esteban’s heart leaps into his throat. Is it Finn?! Is he okay?!

It’s Sean, actually.

_Did they tell you anything?_

Esteban looks across the room. Sean’s just on the other side of Chris and Daniel, barely out of arm’s reach. They could talk, you know, with their _words_, but Sean’s earbuds are still in, and he’s staring at his phone.

Esteban texts him back._ No. I’m sorry_.

Sean mouth goes tight. Esteban hurries to add: _I tried to explain that we’re the closest thing to family he’s got, but they didn’t go for it_.

Esteban watches Sean’s thumbs fly across the screen. He types for a while, and when he’s done, he leans back and exhales. For some reason, it takes considerable effort for Esteban to look at his phone.

_The paramedics separated us. He seemed okay though? He was talking and everything. I don’t know why they’d bring him here. This is so messed up_.

Another message pops up before Esteban can respond.

_It wasn’t his fault, Dad. I swear_.

Sean keeps saying that. Esteban knows exactly why. A lump of guilt rises into his throat.

_I know, hijo_.

A few minutes go by. Esteban stares at the television flickering on the wall, but he doesn’t really see it. He pulls out his phone again.

_I’m gonna go find some coffee. You want one_?

Across the carpet, Sean nods.

*

The hospital’s chapel is small and clean. There are a half-dozen pews, and big cross on the far wall. Flowers, too. It’s… kind of nice. It makes you think that maybe people come in here because they want to say _hi_ to Jesus, not because their loved ones are sick and dying.

Esteban isn’t very religious. At least, not the way Mamá was. She’d be horrified if she could see her grandsons, who don’t know what _apostles_ are and think Christmas is more about Santa Claus than the birth of the savior. But Esteban could never bring himself to make them pray over every meal, or recite Commandments, or any of the stuff that permeated Esteban’s childhood. He wants them to have their own beliefs. He wants to give his children the freedom to find themselves, right here, at home.

He takes a seat near in the back of the room. Props his elbows on the pew in front of him, and then rests his forehead on his joined hands.

He gives thanks for his family. For all the love that’s come into his life. He gives thanks that Sean wasn’t hurt—and asks, if you could, in your infinite wisdom, see fit to bring Finn back to us, we’d really, really appreciate it. Please. Those boys have lost enough, please, _please_ don’t take Finn from them…

Don’t take him from _me_.

Esteban hasn’t always been good to Finn. He took one look at Finn’s tattoos and piercings and decided he was no good, that he’d hurt Sean—and Sean would let him.

Esteban remembers that month, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, when Finn stopped coming around. Sean was miserable, but Esteban was glad, because he’d rather see his son heartbroken than dating some drug-dealing thug.

That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t _right_. And Esteban will never stop trying to make up for it. Never. _Never_. _I promise. Please. Let me take him home. Let me be his father_.

Esteban can feel the Virgin Mary staring at him. He turns and half-smiles at her portrait, hung between two flower vases.

_Hey, you’re a parent. You get it_.

He goes back to the waiting room with two cups of vending machine coffee. It’s actually not that bad. Small miracles, right?

The boys are right where Esteban left them. Sean, curled up in a chair, his face obscured. On the floor, Esteban’s jacket stirs like a tiny heartbeat, fluttering with each breath of the children underneath.

He tries to hand one of the coffees to Sean, but Sean doesn’t take it.

“Here, _hijo_,” he says, waving the coffee cup near Sean’s hand. Sean still doesn’t move.

Esteban sets the coffee aside. Gently, he pulls back Sean’s hood. With his earbuds plugged in and mouth slightly open, Sean’s fast asleep.

Papito settles next to him. He’ll keep watch all night.

*

An hour later, maybe two, Finn drags himself into the waiting room.

There’s no announcement or anything. Esteban just looks up and suddenly there’s Finn, wandering in like a lost little kid, surrounded by tall, unfamiliar legs.

“_¡__Mi hijo_!”

Finn jolts at the sound of Esteban’s voice. He blinks the way Sean did on the curb, emotionless and dazed. He hardly moves as Esteban grabs his face, his shoulders, his upper arms.

“You okay? What happened?”

“M’fine…” Finn mumbles, but that can’t be true, not if they kept him so long, not if they _put a brace on his wrist_—!

“Just a sprain,” Finn says. “They, uh… took a bunch’a x-rays an’ shit… An’ they gave me these…”

He turns a small, orange bottle in his free hand. Pills rattle inside. Finn stares at it like he isn’t sure what he’s looking at, but Esteban can’t take his eyes off Finn’s face. The ring in his nose. The tattoos on his cheek. All the small, perfect pieces that make Finn, blessedly intact.

“Hey, Dad?”

Esteban forces himself to stop fussing. Finn only calls him _Dad_ when he feels closer to ten than twenty.

“D’ju… see my car?”

Esteban sighs. “Yeah. I did.”

“You, uh…”

Finn swallows hard. He’s still looking at the bottle in his hand.

“You think we could fix ‘er?”

Esteban pulls Finn into his arms. “Not this time, _mijo_.”

Finn lets out a sob. For the second time in one night, Esteban’s shirt is soaked with tears—but this time, no one pulls them apart. Papito lets Finn cry as hard as he wants, for as long as he needs.

Sean groans in protest when Finn wakes him. For a minute, he looks like a little kid again, waking up after a long car ride, unsure of where he is or how he got there.

“Sean.”

“What…?”

“C’mon, man, lessgo home.”

“Finn?” All at once, Sean snaps to life. “Fuck, man, what happened?”

“S’alright, sweetie—”

“Holy shit, your _arm_!”

“It ain’t nothin’. Just a little sprain. It’ll be all better in a few days, you’ll see.”

Sean swears again. Several times, in fact. He either doesn’t know or doesn’t care that his dad’s standing right next to him. He embraces Finn, and Finn holds him right back, his face buried in the crook of Sean’s neck.

Esteban tries to give them space. He steps away, and lets them fuss over each other before he wakes up the boys.

Daniel almost knocks Finn over with his hug. Chris hangs back, though, hands pressed over his mouth and silent tears running down his cheeks.

“You alright, Cap’n?” Finn asks. Daniel’s arms are still wrapped around his waist.

Chris’ hands fall away from his mouth. Esteban is surprised to realize that he’s smiling.

“Mantroid’s no match for the Spirit Squad,” Chris says.

*

The drive home is quiet. Daniel falls asleep before they’re out of the parking lot. Sean lays his head on Finn’s shoulder and smiles when Finn leans on him in return. They make a sweet image in Esteban’s rearview mirror; so sweet, that Esteban can’t help but smile, too. It’s nice to see Sean let himself be happy.

Esteban turns on the radio. The song that plays is soft—almost melancholy. It’s about driving at midnight, unable to see the road ahead. Going to sleep all alone.

His smile falls away.

*

Esteban wakes up to laughter. Chris and Daniel are in the yard, playing tag.

_Really_ loudly.

Oh well. At least they’re not throwing knives.

Esteban sits up, rubbing his face with a flat palm. He’s been a single parent for years, but he still sleeps on only half of the mattress.

They were supposed to be on the road by now. If everything had gone according to plan, they’d be getting close to the campsite. Esteban would be on his second cup of gas station coffee.

They probably won’t go now. Too risky. Finn could trip over a rock and make his sprain even worse—break his arm for real, this time. They’ll just make s’mores at home. Cook burgers on the grill. Have a nice little… staycation? Is that what they call it?

He finds Finn on the living room couch, reading a book. He’s completely dressed, which is odd, because lazy mornings usually mean cereal and pajamas.

“_Buenos días, mijo_,” Esteban says, leaning over the couch. “You hungry? I can make pancakes!”

“Nah, I’m good.” Finn sets his book aside. “Thanks, though. How’s, uh… How’s your day goin’?”

He wants something. It’s really obvious, but Esteban’s not gonna call him out on it.

“Pretty good so far. Can I see your arm?”

Finn lifts his bandaged hand. The brace doesn’t look as scary as it did last night. Sam basically wears the same thing when his carpal tunnel flares up.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not too bad,” Finn shrugs. “Hey, uh, listen…”

Well, that didn’t take long.

“Can I borrow your truck? I wanted’a go down to the impound. I left a bunch’a shit in my car… Like my phone.”

Esteban makes a sound of understanding. So that’s why he didn’t call last night.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, patting Finn on the shoulder. “I don’t want you driving right now.”

Finn’s looks away, suddenly unable to meet Esteban’s eye. It takes Esteban a moment to realize why.

“Because of your arm,” he explains, but it’s too late. Finn won’t look at him. He thinks Esteban blames him for the car accident.

“Lemme wake up Sean,” Finn says, rising off the couch. “I’ll tell ‘im he’s gotta watch the kids.”

“Thanks. We’ll leave in ten?”

“Sounds good.”

*

Esteban actually hates the impound lot. There’s just something really sad about seeing all those cars behind barbed wire, like they’re being held prisoner, charged with crimes they didn’t commit.

He’s glad he’s here for Finn, though. Not just to talk to the impound guys about fees and insurance (which Finn doesn’t have) but to place his hand on Finn’s shoulder as he stands over what remains of his car. It makes Esteban feel like maybe he’s living up to his promise, the one he made last night in the chapel.

“Guess they’re gonna… sell ‘er for scrap,” Finn murmurs. He fiddles with a blue rabbit’s foot, recovered from the wreck, just like his phone.

Silence falls over them. It kind of feels like a funeral; Esteban wonders if they should say something nice. Maybe thank the car for keeping Finn safe. For carrying him all these years, never asking anything in return.

It was a good car. Dirty and rusty, but good. Reliable. And now it’s empty. All used up. And Finn is just… gonna move on.

“Hey, Pop?”

“Mm?”

“Does anythin’…” Finn shakes his head. Slips the rabbit’s foot into his pocket. “Nevermind.”

Esteban squeezes his shoulder. “Does anything what, _mijo_?”

“Does anythin’ ever stay?”

Esteban faulters. He tries to think of something wise to say, something deep and fatherly. He’s almost forty-six years old. He’s been an adult for a long ass time. He should have all the answers by now.

Yeah, _right_.

He sighs, and pulls Finn into a sideways hug. “I don’t know.”

They listen to Esteban’s CDs on the drive home. Sean hates Santana, but Finn’s not too picky when it comes to music. He doesn’t care what’s on the radio, so long as he can crank it to eleven.

He doesn’t reach for the dial, though. He just lets the music play at a low, respectable volume, and scratches at his wrist brace. Esteban wonders if it hurts—then he realizes that it’s covering up Finn’s newest tattoo. The one that says _DIAZ_.

Finn never actually told him about that tattoo. There was no big moment where Finn said, _Hey look, Pop! _and beamed at him with pride, like Sean or Daniel showing off a new drawing.

Instead, Esteban just kind of noticed it, one day. They were cooking dinner, and Finn was laughing, poking something with a spatula, and Esteban looked over and there it was. His name, his father and grandfather’s name, smiling up at him from beneath Finn’s bracelets. 

“Hey… Finn?”

Finn turns. “Yeah?”

“I know it wasn’t your fault. The accident.” He reaches sideways, placing a hand on Finn’s wrist. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Finn’s quiet. He rubs at his nose ring. “Thanks, Pop.”

Esteban recognizes that tone. “Try not to blame yourself, okay, _mijo_? These things happen.”

Finn lets out a dry laugh. “Why do they only happen when _I’m_ behind the wheel?”

“Because you’re an adult,” Esteban says, echoing Finn’s laugh. “Shit’s always gonna happen, _mijo_. That’s just… part of life. Being an adult means you have a little more control, but… sometimes you can’t stop some asshole from plowing into you.”

Finn sighs. “Adulthood sounds like a raw fuckin’ deal.”

Esteban laughs again, more genuinely this time. Finn relaxes, too. He reaches for the radio and turns it up. Just a little.

They talk about what they’re going to do, now that the family only has one car. The brown junker in the garage still needs a lot more work, but maybe if they really focus this week, they can get it running. It won’t be _pretty_, but then again, neither was Finn’s old car.

Esteban grips the steering wheel a little tighter. The brown junker was supposed to be for Sean. A graduation gift, not a… a _chore_.

“We’ll look up the bus routes,” Esteban suggests. “Or, maybe you can carpool with Hannah. We have a week to figure it out, before you go back to work.”

Finn’s brow furrows. “We’re still goin’ campin’, right?”

Esteban glances at Finn’s wrist brace. Finn covers it up with his free hand.

“Aww, c’mon, Pop! I ain’t ever been! Please? _Please_?”

God, he sounds just like Daniel. Even all grown up, he’s still the baby boy.

“Yeah, okay,” Esteban says, though it feels like he’s breaking his promise. Once again, he’s pretending that this is a treat for the boys when really, he wants to go camping more than any of them. “Just… no rock climbing, okay?”

“Whadda ‘bout trees? Can I climb those?”

Esteban gives him a _look_. Finn clears his throat.

“Just kiddin’.”

*

The campsite is about two hours away. Esteban’s been there before. Sean has, too, but he probably doesn’t remember it.

He asks Sean to sit up front with him, to help with directions. Sean rolls his eyes.

“You know, Dad, your phone has this really cool thing called GPS—”

Esteban shoves him, playfully. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. Go sit with your _boyfriend_.”

They pile into Sam’s minivan and once again, Esteban’s family becomes a sweet image in the rearview mirror, like he’s watching them on TV. Chris and Daniel play with their plastic robots; Sean and Finn sit next to each other, but when Sean puts in his earbuds and Finn pulls out a book, they suddenly look worlds apart.

“Finn. _Fiiinn_,” Chris says, dragging out the word until he gets Finn’s attention. “Can I draw on your cast?”

“S’not a cast, but sure. If you want.”

Chris digs around for his markers. “Ohhh, what if, like… Quick Knife got hurt, and then Mechaban did surgery on him, and now he has a robot hand!”

“Who’s Mechaban?”

“That’s Dad!” Daniel interjects. “We came up with it last night!”

Sean turns away from his window, suddenly joining the conversation. Maybe he was listening all along.

“What happened to Lucha-Dad?”

“Early retirement!” Esteban says. “Now he’s on a beach somewhere, drinking tequila and getting fat.”

“We could all be so lucky,” says Finn.

A sign on the road catches Esteban’s attention. _TACOMA ROCK_, it says, with a big arrow pointing to the left.

“Hey, this is us!”

He pulls into a parking lot just off the road. Everyone stumbles out of the car, their feet crunching on loose gravel. There’s a ranger station here, and a place to rent canoes. Restrooms, too. Even a public shower.

Daniel makes a face. “_This_ is camping?”

“What did you think it was gonna be?” Sean smirks. “Ents and hobbits everywhere, like _Lord of the Rings_ or something?”

“_No_. I just didn’t think there’d be so much… stuff, in the middle of the woods.”

“This is just the outpost,” Chris says importantly. “We have to hike to the actual campsite. Right, Mechaban?”

“That’s right! Have you been camping before, _niño_?”

“Few times,” Chris shrugs. He tightens the straps of his backpack and kicks the gravel. “We used to hike a lot, when I was little.”

“Guess we’re the rookies,” Finn says, jostling Daniel’s shoulders. “I dunno ‘bout ‘chu, but I’m sure glad Cap’n Spirit’s here to show us the ropes!”

Daniel brightens. “Yeah! What do we do first, Chris?”

“We should, um…” Chris thinks for a moment, then stands a little straighter. “Get a map from the Ranger! And ask about the local wildlife—you know, bears and stuff!”

The three of them run off towards the station, leaving Sean and Esteban to unload the van.

Well, mostly Esteban. Sean’s too busy texting.

“Better send all your messages now!” Esteban teases. “There won’t be any signal at the campsite.”

Sean doesn’t answer. His thumbs move across the screen. Esteban’s not sure Sean even heard him, until Sean says, “I think Lyla’s camp is near here.”

Oh. Of course, she is. Because even out in the middle of nowhere, there’s cooler people to hang out with than Papito.

He smiles for Sean, though. Can’t blame him for growing up.

“Hey, that’s cool!” he says. “Maybe you can score an invite to one of her parties!”

Sean shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He stows the phone in his pocket, then finally helps his old man unload the trunk.

“Hey, did you see the canoe rentals?” Sean asks.

“Yeah, I saw. Do you think we can get the boys in a canoe without tipping it over?”

“Probably not,” Sean snorts. He glances at Esteban. “Remember that time on Wenatchee River?”

How could he forget! All their gear, tumbling into that freezing water. Sean, laughing as hard as he was shivering.

“I told you not to stand up in the canoe!” Esteban teases.

“Hey, I was seven,” Sean replies, smiling despite his tone.

Silence stretches between them as they sort the camping gear. Esteban’s not sure how they’re going to carry it all, with Finn’s arm the way it is…

“I’m glad we didn’t cancel the trip,” Sean says suddenly.

Esteban looks up, but Sean’s staring into the distance, towards a rack lined with canoes.

“Yeah, me too, _hijo_.”

“I wish…”

Sean trails off. Maybe he’s trying to find the right words. Esteban waits patiently. He’ll stand here all week, if that’s what Sean needs.

Sean tears his eyes away from the canoes. He goes back to his phone, as if he didn’t say anything at all.

Esteban’s heart breaks clean in two. “What do you wish, Sean?”

Please, _mijo_.

“It’s nothing,” Sean says. “Really. Just forget it, okay?”

“Okay,” Esteban replies, even though his throat is tight.

*

The sun is already setting by the time they reach the campsite. It’s a nice spot. Private. Cozy. There’s a big firepit in the center, and two sturdy, old logs to sit on.

The boys want to drop everything and explore, but Papito tells them to set up their tent before the light fades. Suddenly, Chris and Daniel are too tired from their walk to do anything but read comic books.

“Nuh-uh,” Esteban says, arms crossed so that they’ll know he’s serious. “None of that. We all gotta pitch in out here.”

Daniel groans. He already hates camping. He wants to be back in his room, with his cozy bed and his PlayBox.

Esteban wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Daniel, listen. Finn’s really gonna need our help this week.” He gestures across the camp, where Finn struggles to open his backpack with one hand. “We gotta take care of him, right?”

Daniel inhales, making himself look bigger. Taller. “Yeah. Okay.”

Esteban jostles him. “_Ese es mi hijo_.”

They’ve got three tents, actually. Two for each set of boys, and one for Esteban. It looks really nice, once everything’s all put together. Like their own little town.

For dinner, they roast hot dogs over the firepit. Chris examines the map he got from the park ranger, tilting it towards the light.

“Wait, there are _bears_ out here?” he frowns. Esteban leans over to look.

“Where does it say that, _niño_?”

Chris points.

“Oh, that’s not where we are. See? That’s Black Bear Forest, and Trout Spring Trail… and _waaay_ over here…” Esteban drags his finger across the map, “is us. Far away from the bears.”

Chris sighs with relief. “Oh. Good.”

“What _is_ out here?” Daniel says, glancing left and right, as if there’s monsters lurking inside the trees.

“Mostly raccoons,” Esteban grins. “They’ll steal our food, if we’re not careful.”

Chris sits up. “I wanna see a raccoon!”

“Me too!” Daniel agrees. “We could keep it as a pet!”

“Dude, a raccoon would tear you apart,” says Sean, poking at the fire.

“At least Dad wouldn’t be allergic to it!”

This is it. That feeling, when everything slows down and there’s just… them, all gathered around the fire. Sean, with his sketchbook. Finn, staring up at the stars. Chris and Daniel, throwing pinecones into the flames.

They tell stories until Chris and Daniel can’t keep their eyes open. Sean closes his sketchbook and says, “I’m gonna crash, too. You coming, Finn?”

“In a minute,” Finn replies. He’s still leaning against the old log, arms behind his head and eyes pointed skyward. He looks like he could just fall asleep right there.

“Well? Is it everything you’d hoped it’d be?” Esteban asks, once everyone else has gone.

“Better,” Finn replies.

Esteban shuffles a little, cleaning up the trash and food scraps that the boys left behind. He wasn’t kidding about those raccoons.

Finn inhales deeply, and exhales slowly. “There were these, like… little glow-in-dark stars, stuck to the ceilin’ of my foster house. I used to stare at ‘em at night. If you’d told me then what I’d be seein’ now… Shit, man.”

Esteban watches Finn’s face. He smiles at the stars like long-lost friends. Pen-pals he’s finally getting to meet. It makes Esteban think of that letter on his pillow. The one he could never reply to, because he knew no one would ever read it.

*

Gas station coffee.

Esteban refuses to go _one more day_ without gas station coffee.

He studies Chris’ map. Looks like there’s a gas station about two miles away. That’s not so bad. He’ll call it a _hike_.

The boys don’t really go for it, though. Finn’s stretched out with a book he doesn’t want to put down, and Sean and Chris are drawing together. Chris keeps asking Sean to add aliens and zombies to every little sketch. Sean doesn’t seem to mind, though. He might even be smiling.

Oh well. Papito still has a trick or two up his sleeve.

“You know what else the gas station will have?” he says mysteriously. His tone draws Daniel’s attention the way honey attracts flies.

“What?”

“_Chock-O-Crisps_.”

Daniel scrambles to his feet. “I’ll go with you!”

Esteban can’t help but laugh. Chocolate—the true secret of parenting.

“Have fun!” Chris says, waving. Sean and Finn don’t even look up from their pages.

“Yeah, you too,” Esteban replies. “Um… No knives, okay? We’re not exactly close to a hospital.”

“Sure thing,” Finn says, but Esteban isn’t sure Finn actually heard him.

He and Daniel venture into the woods. Daniel asks if they can be wolves, like from his stories, and Esteban says, “Of course!”

It’s fun game. Daniel yips and howls all along the trail until he gets bored, and tugs on Esteban’s arm.

“Dad? Can I ride on your back?”

“Sorry, _mijo_. You’re getting a little too big, and Papito’s a little too old.”

“Oh. Okay.” Daniel lets go of his arm. He picks up a stick and drags it behind, leaving a long line in the dirt. “We’re walking _far_, aren’t we?”

“Pretty far,” Esteban agrees. “We gotta work up an appetite for all that chocolate!”

“I’m gonna eat an _entire_ box after this.”

Daniel sighs, exhausted. They’re barely half-way.

“We can slow down, or take a break if you get tired,” Esteban says.

“No, I’m okay,” Daniel shrugs. “I had to walk to Grandma’s house, when Finn’s car broke down. Remember? That was _way_ further than the gas station. _And_ it was snowing!”

No, Esteban doesn’t remember. He wasn’t there. He was at home, having a _heart attack_, because his sons were missing and Sean wouldn’t answer his phone. It was like a bulldozer had come and hollowed out his life, only there wasn’t even a letter this time, just silence and empty beds.

“Sean let me ride on his shoulders,” Daniel says. He sounds wistful, like it’s one of the best memories of his life.

“That was nice of him,” Esteban murmurs.

“Yeah. He’s pretty cool. But he’s still… kind of mean, sometimes.”

Esteban can feel a grin tugging at his mouth. _Brothers_.

“I know he picks on you, _mijo_. But it’s gotten better lately, hasn’t it?”

There’s been a lot less arguing, ever since Finn moved in. Not just between Sean and Daniel, but between Sean and Esteban.

“I don’t mean like that,” Daniel says. He lets his stick smack against a rock. “I mean… like, when he gets all quiet, and I try to talk to him. But then he tells me to just leave him alone.” Daniel makes a frustrated sound. “I don’t even know _why_ he’s mad at me, most of the time. He won’t even tell me what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Esteban promises, drawing Daniel to his side. “Sean just… has a hard time, saying what he’s thinking.”

Daniel wrinkles his nose. “That’s dumb. I like telling people what I’m thinking.”

Esteban laughs, and squeezes Daniel’s shoulders. Please, don’t let him ever change.

They reach the main road, finally. The gas station isn’t far.

“I’m _starving_!” Daniel whines. “I hope we can get a bacon-burger. And a milkshake!”

“Only if we find a secret milkshake factory.”

Esteban shakes Daniel playfully, but Daniel doesn’t laugh. He’s distracted, squinting at the road ahead. Esteban follows his gaze. There’s a brown truck parked on the side of the road, and a young woman, leaning on the truckbed.

“Daniel, wait!” Esteban says, but it’s too late. His ten-year-old son is already sprinting down the road. Super Wolf to the rescue.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The young woman jolts, completely caught off-guard. She was distracted by something in her hands—a camera. A large, bulky camera, like the one Karen used to carry around. She liked snapping pictures of everything; all the people they met, all the gas stations they stopped at. There was once a time when Esteban’s house had more photos of strangers than his own family, which really, _really_ should have told him what she going to do.

“Oh, we’re fine,” the woman says, smiling at Daniel, then Esteban. She’s quiet—also like Karen—and her long brown hair is tied into a ponytail. She gestures towards the hood of the car. “Got it covered.”

“_I know my shit!_” cries a second voice. Another woman Esteban can’t see, bent over the truck’s exposed engine. The brown-haired woman grimaces.

“Sorry. She’s… having a bad day.”

“My dad’s a mechanic!” Daniel says, still trying to help, even as Esteban pulls him back. “He can fix _anything_.”

“I’m sure he can,” the young woman says. She cranes her neck, trying to see around the truck. “What do you think, Chloe? Time for a second opinion?”

The other woman steps into view, and Esteban almost staggers back. She has deep blue hair and colorful tattoos, as well as a studded vest Esteban’s sure he’s seen in the laundry hamper at home. It’s like looking at Finn from another life, right down to the rings on her fingers and the grease beneath her nails.

“I can handle it,” she says, draping an arm over the first woman’s shoulders. She’s tall. Almost as tall as Esteban.

“Hey, no problem,” Esteban replies. “My son and I are just passing through. We can call you a tow truck, if you need one.”

“I said, I’ve got it.”

“_Chloe_.” The woman with brown hair makes a face. “They’re just trying to be nice.”

Chloe tilts back her head. “Sorry. I just… You know how it is.”

The brown-haired woman offers Esteban a shy smile. It reminds him of Sean, which only reminds him even more of Karen.

“I’m Max,” she says. “This is Chloe. It’s nice to meet you—?”

“Esteban,” he replies, reaching out to shake her hand. His other palm is pressed flat to Daniel’s chest, keeping him tight to his father’s side. Daniel squirms under his grip.

“I’m Daniel!” he says. Max smiles at him again.

“Hi, Daniel. Are you having a nice walk with your dad?”

“Yeah! We’re going to the gas station for candy and milkshakes! You wanna come?”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Max says. She has a soft, almost breathless way of speaking, so similar to Sean that Esteban almost can’t look at her. She glances at Chloe. “We really have to get on the road, though.”

Chloe makes a helpless gesture. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“I can take a look, if you want,” Esteban says, unable to stop himself. He can’t _not_ fix things. It’s against Mechaban’s programming.

“Let him look,” Max says, frowning at Chloe. “What’s the harm?”

Chloe throws up her arms in exasperation. “You want some rando all up in our shit? Fucking _fine_. Come on.”

Chloe rounds to the front of the truck, and Max makes yet another apologetic face at Esteban.

He wants to tell her to forget it. He doesn’t need this. If Esteban wants to get yelled at, all he has to do is tell Sean that he has to babysit after work.

But Daniel’s watching. Always watching. Always listening, and learning.

Esteban lifts Daniel onto the edge of the truckbed. “Stay here, okay? I don’t want you getting hit by a car!”

“Okay,” Daniel nods. Max raises the camera to her eye.

“Sit just like that,” she says, snapping a photo. “Perfect! You’re a good model.”

“I know. I pose for my brother all the time. He likes to draw.” Daniel cocks his head at her. “Hey, do you like super heroes?”

Max laughs as Esteban walks away. “I’ll have you know, you’re looking at the Incredible Super Max!”

Chloe’s hunched over the engine, her back forming a perfect arch. The moment Esteban rounds the hood of the car, she actually grabs his arm, and forces him to hunch down beside her.

“You gotta do me a solid,” she whispers fervently.

“Uh—what?”

“The engine!” Chloe hisses. “I know, it’s not that bad! Max can’t tell, because she knows _fuck all_ about cars, but I’m asking you, _please_, just be cool. Okay? Please. Don’t blow this for me.”

Esteban’s head is spinning. Chloe has the exact same look that Finn gets when he’s desperate, climbing up the jungle gym and declaring himself King of the World. If Esteban didn’t know any better, he’d think Finn and Chloe were separated at birth.

“You- You shouldn’t _lie_ to her,” Esteban says, glancing behind him.

“_I know_!” Chloe whines. She looks trapped. Almost panicked. “Listen, I just—I just need two days. _Two days_ to convince her not to go where she wants to go. C’mon man.” She presses her hands together, as if praying to Esteban. “Don’t rat me out. Just walk the fuck away.”

Esteban feels really small. Like he walked into the wrong story.

“I…” He hesitates, then sighs. “Alright. I won’t say anything.”

“_Yesss_!” Chloe whispers, grabbing Esteban by the shoulders. She lets her head drop, going boneless with relief. “You’re the _man_! Much-os gracias!”

Yeah, okay. Don’t ruin it.

Chloe slams the hood closed, drawing Max’s attention. She stretches her arms like she’s been working really hard. “Like I said… It’s gonna take a little while to fix.”

“I’m… sure it’s nothing you can’t handle,” Esteban replies.

Max’s face falls. “Oh. Okay. Thanks anyway, for the help.”

“_De nada_,” Esteban replies. He reaches for Daniel, bracing him as he jumps off the truck. “We should be on our way. You sure you don’t want us to call you a ride?”

“We got it,” Chloe says, leaning against Max. “We’re a lot tougher than we look.”

Esteban lets out a dry laugh. “Well, you look pretty tough. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to mess with you.”

“Bye, Super Max!” Daniel says, waving.

Max returns the wave, and then the two of them make some sort of salute at each other. They hold out their flat palms, then spread their fingers wide and shout, _Boom_!

“I’ve got the power,” they say in unison.

*

The door lets out a merry _bing-bong_ as Esteban pushes into the gas station. It’s a welcome sound, as old and familiar as the scent of overcooked coffee. Esteban breathes it deep.

“Welcome in.”

A woman behind the register raises her hand in greeting, but her eyes never leave the crossword puzzle on the counter. Her gesture is neither warm, nor inviting, but that’s just another thing about gas stations that never changes; the crappy food, the nasty toilets, and attendant who doesn’t give a shit.

Daniel’s already pawing at the candy rack. “Dad, look! They have _everything_! How many can we get?”

“Hmm…” Esteban puts on a good show of thinking hard. “There’s too many to choose from. Better get one of each!”

Daniel’s mouth drops open. “_Really_?”

“Yeah. We deserve it. We walked a really long way.”

_And you actually came with me_.

While Daniel grabs a basket and fills it with candy, Esteban tracks down the coffee machine. It’s utterly disgusting, caked with grime and speckled with dried-up grounds. It whirs in protest when Esteban presses its button, like Sean when you try to wake him from a nap.

The first sip is so bitter, Esteban can taste it all the way to his fingertips. It makes his teeth hurt and the hairs in his nose burn clean away.

Holy _shit_, that’s the good stuff.

Daniel’s laughing. Esteban turns to see what’s so funny, but Daniel’s nowhere to be seen. Where did he…?

There. Beside the register. Daniel’s down on his knees, petting a small, white dog with brown spots. The pup clearly loves the attention; Daniel laughs again as it licks his face.

“Dad, look! She likes me!”

“She sure does,” Esteban replies, keeping his distance. The lady behind the register notices his hesitation.

“She’s friendly,” the woman promises.

“It’s fine,” Esteban replies. “I’m just allergic.”

“Oh. Sorry ‘bout that. I can put her in the back room—“

“No, it’s okay, as long I don’t touch her.”

Daniel bursts into fresh giggles. The dog has him pinned on his back, tail wagging as she licks his hair and nose and cheeks.

“Ursa!” the woman says, snapping her fingers. “Ursa, _down_! Come here.”

The dog pads over to a small pillow behind the register. She curls up there and watches Daniel, panting hard.

“Aww…” Daniel whines.

As the woman rings up their candy and coffee, Daniel rests his chin on the counter and pouts.

“Your doggie is _so_ cute,” he whines.

“Yup, she’s our little angel.” The woman pets Ursa with her foot. “Found her on the side of the road. Couldn’t just leave her out there, so… we took her in.”

“Like Finn,” Daniel laughs, and Esteban doesn’t want to admit how true that is. “What does ‘Ursa’ mean?”

“_Bear_,” the woman says with a grimace. Esteban gets the feeling that the name wasn’t her idea. She gestures to the register, showing Esteban the total. “There’s the damage.”

He pays her, and she goes right back to her crossword puzzle. Daniel leans around the counter for just one last look at the dog; a bag full of chocolate is barely enough to drag him away.

They sit on a bench just outside the door. Esteban unwraps each chocolate bar one at a time, snaps it in half, and gives Daniel the larger piece, just like Tio Eduardo used to do when Esteban was Daniel’s age.

“Can I try your coffee?” Daniel asks, licking the chocolate from his fingers.

“You won’t like it,” Esteban grins.

“Sean and Finn get to drink coffee.”

“Trust me, Sean and Finn wouldn’t like this, either. It’s _really_ bad.”

“So why are _you_ drinking it?”

Esteban settles back, and drapes an arm around Daniel. “When I left Puerto Lobos, I drank gas station coffee because I had no other choice. I hated it, but it kept me from falling asleep behind the wheel.”

The thumb of his free hand brushes against the paper coffee cup, feeling its warmth.

“I went a lot of places. Met a lot of people. One of the only things that never changed was the gas stations. No matter where I went, they were exactly the same. After a while, going to a gas station started to feel like coming home.”

Daniel thinks about that for a while. “Does that mean you slept at gas stations?”

“Home isn’t about where you sleep, _mijo_. It’s about where you _rest_.”

Daniel makes a face that says he doesn’t understand—but he doesn’t argue, either. He just lays his head on Esteban’s shoulder.

*

That afternoon, they all hike to the river. Daniel’s the first one in—and the first one back out.

“It’s _freezing_!” he cries.

Esteban stands at the edge of the water, letting it roll over ankles. It’s not too bad, actually. It’s even kind of nice, in the Summer heat.

“Only one way to get used to it,” he says.

“What’s that?” Daniel asks, wide-eyed.

Summoning the last of his Lucha-Dad strength, Esteban grips Daniel by the waist and throws him into the river. Daniel shrieks with surprise and glee.

“Me next, me next!” Chris says, bouncing at Esteban’s side. There’s a rainbow of fish on his swimsuit—Sean’s old swimsuit.

Esteban really doesn’t know if he has it in him to throw another ten-year-old… but he’s gotta try. He reaches down.

“Wait, wait!” Chris says, holding out his arms like a super hero about to take flight. “Okay, _now_ throw me! _Captain Spirit is_—!”

He hits the water before he can finish.

Finn doesn’t swim, because of his sprain, but Sean joins them for a little while. They have a chicken-fight in the water, with Daniel balanced on Esteban’s shoulders, and Chris on Sean’s. Chris calls them Team _Silver Spirit_ and Team _Mecha Wolf_.

Chris and Daniel flail their arms, trying to knock each other into the water. Daniel wins—Chris goes tumbling off Sean’s shoulders, splashing everyone.

“No one can defeat justice!” Daniel cries.

“Rematch, rematch!” Chris says, floundering at Sean’s side.

“Next time, dude,” Sean replies. “I need a break.”

“You’re only saying that because you know you’ll lose!” says Esteban. He splashes Sean, hoping to goad him into another game, but Sean only laughs.

“Yeah, you _wish_.”

He looks so different, in the water. They all do. The boys are even scrawnier than usual, and Sean’s mohawk is splayed out in all directions along his scalp, making him look way less punk-rock and more like…

Like the kid who stood up in their canoe, and fell into the water. The kid who clung to Papito all the way to shore, and who curled up under his towel, shivering and laughing.

But now, Sean doesn’t need Papito to take him to shore. He can get there all by himself. Finn looks up from his book and smiles as Sean sinks down into the sand, letting the sun warm him dry.

“Maybe Mechaban can transform into things!” Chris says. “Like a boat!”

“Or a submarine!” adds Daniel.

Esteban lets them rope him into another game. He tries to enjoy this time with Daniel, because soon enough he’ll be too _cool_ to hang out with Papito, but in his heart, Esteban wishes Sean and Finn were here, too. If only that car hadn’t smashed into them. If only…

“Oooh, they’re _kissing_!”

Daniel waggles his finger towards the shoreline. Sure enough, Finn and Sean are kissing slowly, oblivious to Daniel’s shouts.

“I’m gonna splash them!” Daniel says, but Esteban pulls him back.

“Leave them alone, _mijo_.”

“But they’re being gross!”

“Kissing isn’t gross,” Esteban says patiently. “You’ll wanna do it too, in few years.”

Daniel makes a face, but Chris has gone completely red. For once, he has nothing to add.

Esteban draws their attention away, leading them to the other side of the river. There, they find a small cave to explore. While the boys shout and giggle, Esteban can’t help but look back the way they came.

Finn’s on his feet now, trying to pull Sean into the water. Sean resists though; Esteban can’t hear them, but he’s pretty sure Sean’s worried about Finn’s wrist. Finn gives up with an exasperated gesture, and Esteban can’t watch anymore. It’s hurts too much, it hurts too _good_, like gas station coffee, both painful and familiar.

Karen loved hiking. She loved open roads, and trails, and hidden pathways. Anything she could follow, anything that could take her away from her terrible, ordinary life.

She loved rivers, too. She would stand at the shoreline and say, _We should jump in a canoe and just go wherever it takes us_!

And Esteban would lift her into his arms, because she didn’t need a canoe. She had him, and he’d carry her anywhere, lead her _everywhere_. And they’d go tumbling into the water together, fully dressed, because this was before everyone had a cellphone in their pocket, and Sean wasn’t even a person yet, wasn’t even a thought in their minds.

Karen kissed him with her arms wrapped around his neck and her long, yellow hair floating in the water like liquid gold. And she’d say, _I never did anything like this, before I met you. You make me brave. You make me _bad_._

And Esteban loved that. Got off on it, actually—taking that nice, quiet girl from Nowhere, Oregon and making her bad. His she-wolf. His _loba_.

But then Sean happened, and they settled down. Bought a house with help from her parents, started working actual jobs. And suddenly Karen was the one tugging him towards the door, saying, _What happened to my rebel? What happened to the guy my parents _warned_ me about_?

He grew up. He had to. Their son deserved a real father, not a part-time friend.

“Dad, Dad, Dad! Look! I found a _fossil_!”

“That’s great, _mijo_!” Esteban says, turning a smile on his youngest son. “Let’s go show your brothers!”

*

Esteban wakes up the next morning pressed to one side of his tent. Even out here, he can only sleep on half the space he’s given.

He’s the first one up, even before the kids. He kind of wants to go on a hike, but there’s too much work to do. He needs to make breakfast, and to make breakfast, he needs to start a fire—except there’s no wood. Sean and Finn were supposed to gather more yesterday, but they must’ve forgot.

Well. He _wanted_ a hike, right?

Esteban reorganizes the list in his head. Firewood. Breakfast. Wake up the boys.

A tree not far from camp makes Esteban laugh. Someone—no doubt with blue hair and nose ring—spray painted a target on the trunk. So much for _no knives_.

Breakfast is oatmeal, boiled in a tin pot over the firepit, and coffee brewed the same way. It’s nice to just sit by the fire and listen to the birds, the rustling leaves—and even nicer when Chris and Daniel come to join him.

Finn emerges soon afterwards, dressed in one of Sean’s old shirts and a ragged pair of jeans. He stretches, then sits down on the log and helps himself to a cup of coffee.

He has a look that Esteban never knows how to feel about. A look that makes Finn stare into the flames and smile—a look that practically screams all the things he let Sean do to him. They must’ve had a good night.

That’s… fine. So long as they contain themselves around the ten-year-olds.

“What’s on the agenda, Pop?” Finn asks. “We finally goin’ fishin’?”

“You guessed it!” Esteban says. “We’ll take a picnic up to Trout Spring Trail. There’s a great view over the river. We’ll have lunch, and then catch our dinner!”

“_Cool_!” Daniel says.

“_Gross_,” says Chris, at the exact same time.

Esteban shows them how to make fishing lures. It’s basically Arts and Crafts, so Chris loves it, staring wide-eyed as Esteban shows him how to wrap chord around the fishhook.

“Mornin’ sweetheart!” Finn says, brightening as Sean steps out of their tent.

Sean groans in response. He tries to scrape the last of the oatmeal out of the tin pot, but it’s all dried up. He groans again and reaches for the coffee.

“Sean! We’re making fishing lures!” Daniel says. “Isn’t it cool?”

“Great,” Sean grumbles. Chris holds up his lure for Sean’s approval.

“Can you help me?” he asks.

Sean stares at it for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind. Something in his expression softens, and he takes a seat next to Chris.

“Sure, dude. Lemme see.”

Beside Esteban, Daniel goes slack. His shoulders drop, and stares at his own lure, dejected.

Maybe Sean _is_ mad at him.

“You two sure have been getting along,” Esteban says. He keeps his tone light, and his hands moving. Sean blinks at him across the firepit.

“Huh?”

“You and Chris! Sorry—_Silver Runner_ and _Captain Spirit_.” He grins at their super hero names. “You were drawing together yesterday, and you made a good team at the river! Well—” he nudges Daniel, “_almost_ as good as me and Super Wolf.”

Chris beams at the praise, but Sean frowns. “So?”

“It’s just nice, that’s all,” Esteban says. “I like it when my boys get along.”

“Chris is cool,” Sean shrugs, and Daniel stiffens, as if Chris being cool makes Daniel _uncool_.

“Maybe you can show Daniel some of your drawings.”

Sean sighs. “Why do you _care_?”

The circle goes quiet, and Esteban remembers with sudden clarity that he’s never off-duty. There’s no retirement for Lucha-Dad, no off-switch for Mechaban. No after hours. No slowing down.

“Picnic should be fun,” Finn says suddenly. “How we gettin’ there?”

They decide to hike to Trout Spring Trail. It’s kind of far, but the gas station will make a good half-way point. They’ll be able to sit down, catch their breath. Use the bathroom.

All the way down the road, Esteban feels like a mother duck, trying and failing to keep all her ducklings in a row. Actual birds would probably listen better than Chris and Daniel, who keep chasing each other into the road; or Sean, who only stares at his phone, desperate for even the smallest amount of signal.

They pass by the same brown truck from yesterday. Esteban catches himself worrying about Max and Chloe, even though they asked him not to. He hopes they found somewhere safe to stay.

“Hells yeah!” Sean shouts, smiling at his phone. They must be getting close to the gas station. Esteban wonders how many messages Sean could’ve missed in just two days.

A lot, apparently. While everyone else takes turns in the restroom, Sean sits at an ancient picnic table and taps at his screen.

“Sean!” Daniel giggles. “You should go see! There’s a wooden bear next to the toilet that looks _just_ like one of your drawings!”

“Mm,” Sean replies, shrugging Daniel away.

Daniel looks crestfallen, yet again. He watches Sean for a moment, then turns to Esteban. “Dad? Can I show Chris the doggie?”

Esteban remembers the woman, frowning behind her register. She probably wouldn’t like it if two kids came into her store alone. “Only if Finn goes with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Finn says. “I wanna grab some smokes anyway.”

Esteban wants to say something about how cigarettes will kill you, and turn your lungs black, and all the things you’re supposed to say when your son wants to smoke, but Finn’s twenty years old, and he knows it all anyway. He follows after Chris and Daniel, and Esteban hears the familiar _bing-bong_ of the gas station door.

“Sean,” he says, crossing his arms.

“Mm?”

“Put down the phone. Look at me.”

Sean makes a frustrated sound, but keeps texting.

“_Now_,” Esteban says.

“Ugh, hang on! Just lemme—” He gives the screen a forceful tap, then lets his arms drop and his gaze snap upwards. “_What_?”

“Be nice to Daniel.”

Sean blinks, shaking his entire head, as if that’s the last thing he expected his dad to say. “When was I _mean_ to Daniel?”

“You’ve been blowing him off this whole trip. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Esteban inhales deeply, trying to steady himself. Sean’s almost an adult—talk to him like one. “Listen. Daniel’s never been out in the woods before. He needs a little extra attention right now. Like Finn, with his bad arm. That’s what family does, right? We look out for each other.”

“I _do_ look out for him!” Sean snaps. Esteban raises his hands in a calming motion.

“I’m sure you have. But playing favorites with Chris—that’s not okay. It really hurts Daniel’s feelings.”

Sean looks away, his jaw set. “This is _bullshit_.”

“Hey!” Esteban says, but Sean doesn’t react at all. He doesn’t even blink. Esteban pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just… help me out here, Sean. Try to be more _considerate_. Is that too much to ask?”

Sean doesn’t answer.

*

Trout Spring Trail doesn’t look the way Esteban remembers it. The signposts are crumbling, somehow sunbeaten and waterlogged at the same time. Too many storms have passed over this place. Not enough people have shown it care.

The boys don’t seem to notice, though. To them, this place is new and exciting. Daniel points to a tree at the mouth of the trail.

“What’s that?” he says, meaning a single white line painted on the trunk.

“A trail blaze,” Chris replies. He glances at Esteban. “They give directions, right?”

“That’s right! You know your stuff!” Esteban rocks Chris by the shoulders. “Can you tell me what a single line means?”

Chris thinks hard. “Um… I don’t remember.”

“It means go straight,” Sean says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, even though he had trouble remembering it when he was Chris’ age.

“Yes, _thank you_, know-it-all,” Esteban says. “Come on. The picnic spot should be just ahead.”

The boys take off, with Sean not far behind. He reaches into his pocket and starts to untangle his earbuds.

Wait.

Esteban’s short one duckling.

He looks around—only _slightly_ panicked—and spots Finn down the road. He doesn’t answer when Esteban calls his name.

“Pop, lookit ‘er!” Finn says, as Esteban draws close. He’s got his face pressed to the window of an old car, parked just off the trail. “She’s beautiful!”

_Beautiful_ isn’t the word Esteban would use. It’s just a broken-down, four-door Sedan, covered in so much dirt that when Finn pulls away, his hands leave prints on the glass.

“It’s like fate or som’thin’!”

“Fate?” Esteban echoes.

“_Fuck_ yeah!” Finn says. His eyes are absolutely shining. “Karma, y’know? My car gets all busted, and then we come out here and she’s just… _waitin’_ for us?”

Esteban’s heart sinks. “Finn, no—”

“We could fix ‘er up!” Finn pleads, looking at Esteban the same way Daniel does around stray dogs. “Give ‘er a home!”

Esteban hates the way he says that. It makes arguing with him difficult.

“We can’t, Finn. What if the owners come back?”

“C’mon, Pop! Look around! Ain’t no one been out here in years! Someone just dumped ‘er here, all alone. She _needs_ us.”

Damn. This isn’t about the car. This is about Finn; a puppy in a cardboard box, unwanted, unloved. But ditching a car isn’t the same as ditching a kid.

“Finn.”

Esteban places a hand on Finn’s shoulder. Finn’s eyes drop to the ground, and suddenly he looks really small, and Esteban doesn’t need to see the name on Finn’s wrist to know that this boy is his son.

“I know it seems like… _fate_. But it’s just a car. We can’t steal it. What kind of message would that send the boys, huh?”

Finn’s nodding. His head bobs like some plastic toy; automatic and emotionless. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“Mm,” Esteban says. His mouth stretches, but Finn doesn’t see it. He still won’t look Esteban in the eye.

He’ll get there. He’s _trying_.

Esteban pats Finn between the shoulder blades, leading him away from the car. “It sucks, what happened to your car. But we’ll figure it out. Just try to have fun this week. Okay, _mijo_?”

“Yeah,” Finn says again. “I hear you.”

There's a target in the woods that suggests otherwise.

*

The picnic site makes Esteban feel better. It looks more or less the way he remembers it, with wooden tables and long bench, perched on the edge of a cliff.

Esteban stands there for a moment, taking in the view. The river below stretches for miles, and the trees go even further, rolling into the horizon like a wave of green.

“Wow…” Daniel says. He stands up on the bench like Sean in a canoe, and Esteban wraps an arm around his waist, afraid he’ll fall. “I’ve never seen _anything_ like this!”

“What do you think, _mijo_? Pretty cool, huh?”

“_Super_ cool!” Daniel says.

Esteban wonders if he should have taken Daniel camping sooner. It was hard, though, to do just about anything when Daniel was little; not even Lucha-Dad could’ve handled a four-year-old _and_ a twelve-year-old all alone in the woods.

He never stopped going with Sean, though. About once a year, they’d dump Daniel on a sitter and just take off, _padre e hijo_. Esteban told himself it was a treat for Sean, but like so many candy bars, it was really a treat for Papito, because camping was _his_ thing before he ever shared it with Karen. Just because she didn’t want to be a part of it any more—

Esteban stops himself. Shakes his head. He holds tight to Daniel’s waist and helps him off the bench.

Sean’s at a picnic table, laying out chips and sandwiches for lunch. Finn helps as best he can with one hand, but Sean snatches the paper plates away from him.

“Don’t take his side,” Sean hisses.

“I’m not!” Finn replies. Neither he nor Sean notice Esteban’s approach. “I just think you been actin’ weird—”

“Jeezus, Finn! You sound just like him!”

Shit.

Esteban should just turn around. Let them work out… whatever this is. But Daniel slides up to the table, oblivious, and his big brothers instantly drop their argument. It makes Esteban think of when he and Sean would build blocks together, until Daniel knocked them down. All that buildup with no resolution, just a big mess to clean.

“Is lunch ready?” Daniel asks.

“Almost, dude,” Sean grumbles.

Things go a little too quiet, after that. Esteban can’t even hear any birds; it’s like the whole forest is tugging awkwardly at its collar. Only the boys are unaware of it; Chris hunches over his notebook, while Daniel drums his hands on the picnic table. He squints at the graffiti strewn across its surface.

“Why do people carve their names into stuff?” he asks.

“’Cause they’re bored,” Sean shrugs.

“Or maybe they don’t wanna be forgot,” Finn adds. His tone is much softer than Sean’s, reminding Esteban of the tree in his backyard, the one riddled with knife marks.

“I guess that makes sense,” Daniel says. It’s unclear if he means Sean’s answer, or Finn’s. “Hey, Chris, look! Your name’s on here!”

Chris looks up from his drawing. “What?”

Daniel brushes away the stray leaves and acorns, revealing Chris’ name, carved in the center of the table.

_CHARLES_  
_EMILY_  
_ CHRIS_  
_ 2012_

Chris stares at the carving. His eyes go wide. Then _wider_. He slams his palms on the table.

“That’s _me_!”

“Uh—yeah!” Finn says, brow creased. “S’your name, Cap’n!”

“No!” Chris looks up, suddenly frenzied, his gaze snapping between all four of them. “That’s _really _me! Me and my dad and my mom! That’s her name! That’s _us_!”

Esteban studies the names. _2012_. Chris would have been five. The same age Sean was when Esteban and Karen brought him here, and they stayed until the sun went down and howled at the moon.

“We were here!” Chris says. His eyes are wet; his nose and cheeks, completely red. “We were _right here_.”

Chris touches the names, running his hands across them tenderly, reverently, as if his mother is buried in these woods, and this is her tombstone.

“She was here, and I was with her,” he whispers. Tears roll down his face.

Everyone is silent. Stunned. Esteban isn’t sure what to say. A part of him wants to tell Chris that it’s just a coincidence, that those names could belong to anybody, but Chris believes it so much, and what kind of hero would Mechaban be if he took that from a crying little boy?

Daniel recovers first. He wraps his friend in tight hug and says, “That’s _awesome_, Chris.”

“Yeah, Cap’n…” Finn adds. He sounds dazed. His fingers trace over his wrist brace, over the spot that says _Diaz_. “That’s just… _boom_.”

Finn mimics the sound of an explosion, and pantomimes his whole head exploding. Sean just looks incredulous, though. He meets Esteban’s eye.

“Pretty wild, huh?” he says, completely unaware that he once stood here with his mother and father, over a decade ago, when they were still a family.

“Pretty wild,” Esteban echoes.

*

Chris doesn’t want to leave the carving. Esteban takes about a hundred pictures with his phone. He captures it from a dozen different angles, photographs each letter individually, but still Chris isn’t satisfied. The photos aren’t enough. He wants to break the table apart and take the pieces with him.

Sean has a better idea, though. He lays a sheet of paper over the carving, and rubs Chris’ pencil back and forth across its surface. Every mark on the table, every grain in the wood, appears in loving detail on the page.

“It’s perfect!” Chris says, hugging it to his chest. “Thanks, Sean!”

“No problem, dude,” Sean replies. He nudges Chris, and for once, Daniel doesn’t look jealous. Just relieved.

Finally, they pack up their bags, grab their fishing poles (they only have two—the boys are going to have to share) and hike down to the river. Sean hangs back, once again fussing with his earbuds, and Esteban lets himself fall behind, too.

“I’m really proud of you,” he says.

Sean looks up, confused. “What?”

“What you did for Chris. That was really smart thinking, _hijo_.”

“You sure I wasn’t playing _favorites_?” Sean says. Heat prickles the back of Esteban’s neck.

“Hey—that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?!” Sean snaps, and Esteban wants to take that sixteen-year-old sneer and shove it down his _throat_.

“You know, I’m getting a little sick of the attitude, Seanie-boy. Why are you making a drama out of everything I say? Huh?”

Sean doesn’t answer. Esteban grabs his shoulder, stopping them both in their tracks.

“I mean it!” he says sternly. “There’s a lot to do out here, and Finn can’t pick up your slack this week! You need to _grow up_.”

“Stop it!” Sean says, wrenching out of Esteban’s grip. “I’m not a kid anymore!”

“Then fucking act like it!”

Sean blinks, surprised that his dad even knows the word _fuck_—and equally hurt to hear it used against him.

Esteban regrets it, of course. He regrets the whole conversation. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He was _trying_, damnit. Trying to bridge the gap that always seems to rise up between him and Sean, like a closed door, like an unanswered phone call.

“Sean—”

“Just forget it!” Sean says. He goes marching down the trail, leaving Esteban behind.

*

They catch up with everyone else down by the river. Esteban sees blue hair in the distance. He waves, and the figure waves back—and Esteban realizes that it’s not Finn. It’s Chloe.

“Dad!” Daniel cries, running up to Esteban. “Max is here! Remember? From yesterday?”

“Of course I remember!”

The fishing spot is quiet and secluded. Esteban’s pretty sure he saw a sign about _No Camping_, but Max and Chloe have turned it into a hideout. There’s a small cluster of rocks that almost forms a cave; they’ve constructed a tent inside of it, and built a fire outside its mouth.

Max trails after Daniel. She still has that bulky camera slung around her neck. “It was ‘Esteban,’ right?”

“That’s right.” Esteban takes her hand, shaking it. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Max gestures around the makeshift camp. Finn is talking to Chloe—oh wow, they really _do_ look like twins—and Chris is tugging Sean by the arm, dragging him towards Max.

“You didn’t say you had so many kids,” she grins.

Chris finally brings Sean into the circle, with Max, Esteban and Daniel.

“Sean, this is Super Max!” he says. “She’s _so_ cool! She took my picture!”

“Hey,” Sean says, lifting his chin. That’s about as warm as Sean ever gets with strangers.

Max tosses back her hair. She’s wearing it lose today; it hangs down just past her shoulders. Esteban thinks she’s about Finn’s age, but she doesn’t look at Sean like a teenager. She looks at him like a fellow traveler on the road. An old soul.

It makes Esteban feel like a fossil. The remains of something once vibrant and alive, now pressed into stone.

“You must be Daniel’s brother,” Max says.

“Finn is, too!” Daniel interrupts, but Max doesn’t take her eyes off Sean.

“Yeah,” Sean shrugs. “We’re one big, fucked-up family.”

“That’s really nice,” Max says, smiling softly. Her fingers drum on the camera around her neck. “Do you mind if I take your picture, Sean?”

“Uh, sure?” Sean rubs the back of his neck. “You mean, like… Just standing here?”

“Whatever feels natural.”

“Do a super-hero pose!” Chris says, planting his hands on his hips. “Like this!”

Sean ignores him. Max brings the camera to her eye, and suddenly Sean looks like a cornered animal. A butterfly pinned to the corkboard, its wings still beating.

Max takes a step backwards, but doesn’t lower the camera. She ducks her head, trying to get the angle just right. Sean shuffles.

He looks towards the river. Finn and Chloe are there, still deep in conversation. Sean’s face relaxes. His mouth curves, like he’s laughing at himself. Maybe he just realized how silly it is to get so worked up over a photo.

Max snaps the picture. A polaroid slides out of the camera. Max pinches it between her fingers, and gives it a tiny shake. _Fwip. Fwip_.

“That’s perfect,” she says. “I really like your hair.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Sean runs a hand through his mohawk. After a brief hesitation, he adds, “Finn does it for me.”

“I’d love to get a photo of you together,” Max says.

“Uh… yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re both so… distinct. It’s great for art.”

Sean laughs through his nose, and Daniel finally gets sick of not being the center of attention. He says that he wants a photo with Finn, too—and Chris, and Chloe, and _everybody_.

It occurs to Esteban that Max hasn’t taken his picture. When she looks back on this trip, she’ll see all the cool, wild-haired kids she met, but not Esteban. Just like Karen, snapping photos of everyone in the world, except the family right in front of her.

The group moves towards the river. Esteban places a hand atop Daniel’s head.

“You excited for fishing, _mijo_?” he asks.

“Um, maybe in a bit!” Daniel says. “I wanna see what everyone else is doing!”

Daniel takes off. Esteban follows behind. He doesn’t feel like a mother duck any more, but a really old dog, all shaggy and grey, surrounded by tiny pups and lively hounds.

Chloe greets Sean with a fist-bump. Esteban, a tilt of the head. She’s barefoot and wet; Esteban gets the sense that she was washing up before they arrived. She leans on Max, and it becomes obvious again just how tall she is. Even without shoes, she stands an inch or two above Sean.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she says, looking Esteban up and down.

“Small world,” he replies. “You guys doing alright?”

“Oh, we’re fine.” Max bumps Chloe with her hip. “Chloe worked on the truck today. We should be good to go soon, right?”

“I mean… maybe,” Chloe shrugs, looking anywhere but at Max.

“Pop an’ I can take a look at it!” Finn volunteers. Chloe’s lip curls with annoyance.

“Lemme guess. You’re a mechanic too?”

Finn stands up straighter. “Damn right! I’m gettin’ certified to work in Pop’s garage!”

Warmth floods Esteban’s veins. Finn sounds so proud of himself. He should. He’s worked really hard, come such a long way. Esteban wants to wrap him in a hug, right here in front of everyone.

Chloe’s not impressed, though. She stares at her bare feet. “Fucking great.”

“What’s wrong with it, exactly?” Finn asks.

Chloe shrugs. “You know. Car stuff.”

“Car stuff,” Finn echoes. He can tell something’s wrong. This whole thing reeks of bullshit.

“Maybe we should let them help,” Max says, her tone even softer than usual. “If you can’t fix it—“

“I didn’t say I _couldn’t _fix it!” Chloe snaps, twisting away from Max. “I said it would take _time_ to fix it! Jeezus! Why does every asshole in the woods wanna touch my fucking truck?!”

She stomps towards the tent. Max winces, and rubs at her neck in a perfect mirror image of Sean.

“She outta pills or somethin’?” Finn grumbles.

“I’m sorry,” Max replies. “It’s just… hard, out here. You know?” She tries to laugh. “Shit gets crazy in the woods.”

Yeah, especially when one of you won’t talk.

Maybe Esteban should tell Max the truth. She deserves to know that they aren’t as stranded as Chloe says. He could take Max aside, explain to her that…

No. Chloe’s the one who should tell her. If she hasn’t come clean by end of the week, Esteban will say something, but until then, he’ll let them work it out on their own.

Daniel takes Max’s hand. “Hey… Do you wanna hang out with us?”

“That sounds really nice,” Max says, smiling down at him. She looks to Esteban for permission, though. “But only if your dad doesn’t mind.”

Why would he mind? He only came out to the middle of nowhere to spend time with his sons.

Who are all watching, by the way.

“Hey, the more, the merrier!” Esteban says. That’s pretty much his motto, isn’t it? He has two new stools at home to prove it.

They don’t actually fish for very long. Finn can’t, with only one hand and Sean doesn’t want to, and when Chris and Daniel don’t catch anything after two minutes, they get bored and wander off. There are much cooler things to do out here than stare at the water.

Papito sticks at it, though. Maybe if he catches something, Daniel will want to help him clean it. He’s always been into zombies and skeletons; he’ll get a kick out of all the little fish bones. And the entrails.

Hey, that’s not weird. It’s educational. It’s _science_.

There’s a fallen tree not far from Esteban, sticking half in the water, half on shore. Sean and Finn are propped against it. Sean’s sketching again, but Finn is smoking. Chloe must’ve really pissed him off.

As the kids run around playing _swords_—that’s what they call hitting a tree with sticks—Max sits down next to Sean and Finn; though, not without taking their picture first.

“D’ju get my good side?” Finn asks.

“Yeah,” Max says, studying the polaroid. “You two look so sweet together! Just like real brothers.”

Finn snorts. “Yeah, an’ you an’ Chloe look like _sisters_.”

“_Oh_. I’m- I’m sorry. I thought…”

“S’no big deal,” Finn says. “It’s confusin’, I know. But Sean was my… my, uh—”

“Boyfriend,” Sean says, without looking up from his sketchbook.

“_Boyfriend_,” Finn grins, “’fore Pop was my dad. So. He’s got dibs.”

“Damn right,” Sean murmurs, so quietly that Esteban almost doesn’t hear him.

“Wow,” Max says. “That sounds… complicated.”

“Yeah, well.” Finn takes a drag off his cigarette. “That’s life, ain’t it? Bet‘chu an’ Chloe got a story just as long.”

Max laughs. “You have _no_ idea.”

Esteban reels in his line. The fish aren’t biting. He’d rather swing sticks at a tree than stand in the water alone.

In the time it takes Esteban to store the gear, however, Chris and Daniel have moved on. Daniel is actually at the shoreline now, and Sean is teaching him to skip stones. It’s such a perfect scene that Esteban doesn’t dare interrupt.

What happened to Chris, though? Finn’s still talking to Max, but Chris is…

Sitting by the firepit, with Chloe. He’s hunched over his notebook again, and Chloe’s staring down at the river with a cigarette between her teeth.

Esteban approaches with a smile. “What are you drawing, _niño_?”

“Chloe,” Chris answers. He holds up his notebook for Esteban to see. It looks like he started drawing Chloe in profile, with her knees drawn up to her chest and smoke pouring from her mouth, but he gave up half-way and turned her into a blue dragon.

“Looks great!” Esteban says, taking a seat beside him. Chloe doesn’t say anything, utterly indifferent to their company.

“Chloe? Are you a superhero, too? Like Super Max?” Chris asks.

“No way,” Chloe replies. She plays with the cigarette box in her hands, flipping open the lid and snapping closed. “I’m just her side-kickass.”

“Her what?” Chris laughs.

“Her ass-kicking sidekick.”

Chris laughs again. “You talk funny.”

“Thanks,” Chloe murmurs.

“Can I make up a superhero for you?” Chris asks. He’s already flipping to a new page.

“Whatever, Little Boy Blue.”

Chris doesn’t respond. There’s a small stretch of silence before Chloe sighs and adds, “Make me a pirate, okay?”

“Okay!”

Chloe seems to relax. She extends her arm sideways, offering the cigarette box to Esteban. “You want one?”

_Yes_, Esteban thinks.

“No,” he says out loud.

“I’ll take one,” says Chris. He snickers at Esteban’s shocked face. “Just kidding!”

“Haha,” Esteban replies, ruffling Chris’ blue and yellow hair.

They fall again into an easy silence. Chloe, smoking. Chris, sketching. Esteban leans back and watches the clouds pass overhead. It’s a beautiful day.

“Mechaban?”

“Hm?”

“Can we look at the carving again, before we head back to camp? Just one more time?”

Esteban knows he’s going to regret this. That he’ll be dragging away a pleading, crying boy while the sun goes down. “Sure, _niño_.”

“What carving?” Chloe asks.

“My mom and dad brought me here when I was little,” Chris says. “They carved our names into a picnic table up the trail. Pretty cool, huh?”

Chloe doesn’t reply.

“Have you heard from your dad?” Esteban asks. A smile blossoms across Chris’ face.

“Yeah! He’s doing a lot better. I think… he has to pass a test, or something? But then we’re gonna live together again.”

“I really hope so, Chris,” Esteban says, squeezing the boy’s arm.

He means it. Charles had problems, but… god, it was difficult to not feel sorry for him. His story was too familiar; his pain, too close to home. When Esteban looked at Charles, he couldn’t help but see himself, some nightmarish reflection of what his life would have been if he’d had a little more anguish, a little less hope.

“Maybe Dad and I can come back here!” Chris says. “And he can tell me about the carving.”

“You don’t have to come back here to talk about it,” Chloe murmurs.

“Well… yeah,” Chris shrugs. “But it’d be cool if we could both… be here, again. Even if Mom can’t be with us.”

Chloe taps her cigarette. The ashes sprinkle her knees. “What happened to her?”

Chris stops drawing. He’s quiet for a while; Esteban wants to tell him that he doesn’t have to answer the question, but Chris speaks before Esteban can say it.

“A car hit her, and she died.”

Chloe’s quiet, too. She snuffs out her cigarette—and then does something strange.

She reaches out, feeling the large, blue streak in Chris’ yellow hair. He looks at her, surprised, as she rubs those blue strands between her fingertips.

“You’re a cool kid, Chris. You’re gonna be okay.”

“I know,” Chris says, smiling. “I have Daniel. I have the whole Spirit Squad.”

“That’s good. Everyone… needs someone.”

“Like a side-kicker!”

“Or a partner in crime,” Chloe grins.

Esteban doesn’t speak. He runs a thumb along his knuckles, where his wedding ring used to be.

*

The stone-skipping was too good to last. Less than an hour later, Sean pushes Daniel into a spider web strung between two trees.

Papito comes running at the sound of Daniel’s scream. By the time he gets there, Daniel is red-cheeked and indignant, and Sean’s doubled over with laughter.

“He _pushed_ me!” Daniel whines.

“Dude, you’re fine!” Sean says, still laughing. “There aren’t even any spiders!”

“You’re still a _jerk_!”

“Okay, alright—” Esteban says. “Just break it up. Come here, _mijo_.”

Esteban draws Daniel close, helping him pick the spider web out of his hair. He fixes a stern eye on Sean. “Seriously? What did we _just_ talk about?!”

Sean rolls back his head, exasperated. “C’mon, Dad. It was a _joke_.”

“Well, I’m not laughing.”

They’ve drawn attention. Max and Finn are watching. Even Chloe is leaning around the campfire, concerned.

Sean looks at the ground. He’s getting lectured by his dad in front of a bunch of twenty-year-olds; he must feel like a little kid.

Good. He’s _acting_ like one.

“Whatever,” Sean says. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks away. Esteban’s face remains impassive, staring at Sean’s retreating back.

“There you go, _mijo_. Good as new. Now go play.”

With a smile of thanks, Daniel scampers off. Esteban just stands there and sighs.

Damnit.

This whole thing is just…

_Damnit_.

He inspects the two trees, where the spider web was strung. Just because Sean didn’t see any spiders, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. If Daniel’s been bitten by something, Papito really needs to know what it was.

He doesn’t find any spiders—but he does find claw marks. Long, deep claw marks.

Oh… shit.

The _No Camping_ sign. The bears on Chris’ map. _Beware of Wildlife_.

“Chloe?” Esteban calls. “Can I talk to you?”

“Uh… sure man,” Chloe says. She brushes the dirt off her pants and joins him. “What up? You want me to kick Sean’s boney ass?”

What?

Oh, god, _that_ would be something to see.

But no.

“Chloe, listen—you can’t stay here.”

Chloe crosses her arms. “Why? You gonna sic the fucking ranger on us?”

“What? No! Just look—see those claw marks? They’re recent. Chloe, there are bears out here. That’s why no one is camping nearby. Probably why no one picnics here anymore, either.”

Chloe’s face goes pale. Her arms unwind and she passes a hand over her mouth. “Fuck. _Shit_.”

Esteban almost puts a hand on her shoulder. He only barely remembers that this kid is not, in fact, Finn. “You need to find somewhere else to stay. A _real_ campsite.”

“We don’t got the money for that!” Chloe says, flexing her hands. “Shit, you think I _wanna_ be squatting out here?! I look like Annie Fucking Oakley to you?”

“Then you need to tell Max the truth,” Esteban says. Chloe goes even paler.

“No. _No_.”

“Either you tell her, or I will. Because lying to her? Putting her life in danger? That’s unacceptable.”

“Thanks, _Dad_,” Chloe snaps. She paces back and forth like a caged animal, trying to find her way out. Esteban sighs.

“Listen—I’ll help you. We can fix up your car—”

“No!” Chloe hisses. She keeps pacing. Her hands flex again, like she longs to strangle something. “You don’t get it! I… I c_an’t_, okay?! I _can’t_.” She makes a frustrated sound. “_Fuck_!”

Esteban reaches out. She needs to calm down. “Hey, hey. Talk to me. What could be possibly be worth all this trouble? Huh? All the lies?”

Chloe stops moving. She plants both hands on her hips and sighs. “It… It’s a long-ass story. You wouldn’t understand.”

She looks so much like Finn, it hurts. Not because of her blue hair—no, she looks the way Finn did when he was up on that jungle gym, barely holding back tears, crumbling under the weight of his own bad choices.

And Papito…

Papito _has_ to help her down.

“Then you’ll stay with us,” he says. Chloe’s gaze snaps upwards.

“What?”

“Come crash at our campsite. We’ve got it for three more days.”

Chloe’s mouth opens, then closes. Then opens again. “Are you for serious?”

“Yeah. I am.” He steps closer to Chloe. To his immense relief, she doesn’t retreat. “But you’ve _got_ to talk things out with Max. ¿_Comprendé__?_ Figure out a plan, together.”

Chloe swallows. “She won’t… listen to me.”

“Well… You’ve got three days,” Esteban shrugs. “And if she won’t listen to you, maybe try listening to her.”

Another sigh. Chloe bobs her head. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, man.”

“_De nada_,” Esteban shrugs. Why does he get the feeling that Max and Chloe will be living in his house by the end of the week?

“You’re a pretty cool guy, _Mechaban_. Anyone ever tell you that?”

Esteban laughs through his nose. “Not since Sean was twelve.”

“Yeah, well, you are,” Chloe insists. “And Sean’s hella lucky, to have a dad like you.”

“You mind telling him that?” Esteban says. He hopes it sounds like a joke.

*

That night, back at camp, Esteban cooks a meal big enough for everyone. He knows he doesn’t have to, but Mamá fed every single person who stepped into her house, and she raised Esteban to do the same.

“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Max says. “Please, don’t let us ruin your trip… We’re fine, really.”

Esteban looks at their meager supplies. They don’t have much more than a tent and two backpacks—not even _hiking_ packs, just a regular bookbags, like they came here straight from school. He’s never seen anyone so woefully unprepared for the wilderness.

“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer!” Esteban says, keeping his tone light. He claps his hands together and gestures them towards the fire. “Come on, we’ve got plenty!”

He made ‘Cowboy Dinner.’ That’s what Sean used to call pork and beans when he was little, and the name just kind of stuck. Esteban made skillet cornbread, too, and when he pulls back the lid, Chloe’s mouth falls open.

“Holy shit, _real food_!”

Max smiles as Daniel hands her a plate. “We haven’t eaten anything but drive-through in months.”

“What? Really?” Daniel says, smothering his cornbread with beans. “That’s _cool_!”

“It gets old real quick, little man,” says Finn.

Daniel frowns, unconvinced. He and Chris are wedged between Super Max and Captain Chloe; Finn sits on the other side of the fire with Sean and tries not to look too disappointed. He’s not the shiny new toy anymore.

“You guys travel a lot?”

“Yeah,” Max replies. “We left home a few years back. Since then, it’s just been us, and the road.”

“That’s wicked,” Sean says, surprising almost everyone around the campfire. He’s been quiet ever since they left the finishing spot with Max and Chloe in tow. Probably too afraid to sound _uncool_.

Sean rubs his neck, embarrassed under so many eyes. “I mean… It must be pretty awesome, to just go out and… see the world.”

He sounds jealous. Anxious. Like he’s glimpsing Max’s life through a keyhole, and longing to open the door.

Esteban remembers that feeling. Puerto Lobos was… incredible. Perfect, really. A paradise of crystal waters and white shores. Esteban knew he’d never find anywhere better, but he had to leave it. He had to _know_. He had to smell redwoods and taste snowflakes and hear cars blaring in a traffic jam. He had to let it all wash over him like so many waves against the shore, wearing him down, smoothing him out, helping him find his true shape.

Puerto Lobos was just his cocoon. And Seattle is Sean’s.

“It’s been great for my art,” Max says, poking at her food. “I couldn’t really… find my voice, until I put myself out there.”

“Was that…”

Sean hesitates. Once again, he seems keenly aware of all the eyes and ears capturing his every word. He shakes his head.

“Was it hard? Putting yourself out there?”

Max lets out a laugh that’s more of an exhale. “Yeah. _Really_ hard. That first step… is the hardest one.”

Sean nods, like he gets it. Like he and Max are walking the same path, sharing the same road.

They seem so far from Esteban. Their path, their journey—it’s closer to Karen’s than his. As much as she wanted to leave Beaver Creek, she couldn’t do it until someone like Esteban came along and made her _bad_. Someone like Choe. Someone like Finn.

A sidekick. A partner in crime.

For Esteban, the first step was the easy part. It was the last one, the slowing down—that’s what he struggled with. That’s what he still can’t figure out. Even when he’s standing still, he’s always moving, always crossing things off his list.

On the other side of the fire, Daniel steals a spoonful of Chris’ beans.

“Hey! I was eating those!” Chris says.

For some reason, Max bursts into laughter.

*

As the night wears on, the group grows smaller. Chris and Daniel go first; they giggle in their tent for a while, and even from his spot at the campfire, Esteban can see them making shadow puppets against the walls.

Sean goes next. He must be feeling shy, because he doesn’t kiss Finn or even invite him back to their tent; he just makes an awkward salute to the entire group and says, “See ya, my dudes.”

Esteban wonders if he counts as one of the _dudes_. Probably not. Three days ago, he wouldn’t have cared, but out here, it makes him feel petty. It makes him want to enjoy his _after hours_.

“Now that the kids are in bed…” he says, reaching into the cooler and revealing a six-pack of beer.

“Oh, _hells_ yes!” Finn cries.

He’s not twenty-one yet, but Esteban hands him a beer anyway. This isn’t the first drink they’ve shared together. Not the second or third, either. Finn needs that, sometimes. A whiskey hug. A break in the rules. A reminder that he isn’t being _graded_.

Chloe takes a beer, too, but Max declines.

“None for me, thanks. I’m wiped. You guys enjoy yourselves, though.”

She kisses Chloe’s cheek, then stands up. She gets about halfway to the tent before Chloe calls out, “Hey Max?”

“Yeah?” Max replies, turning on the spot. She looks almost hopeful. Like Chloe’s going to change her mind.

“Sweet dreams, okay?”

A laugh. “Thanks. You too.”

Max seals herself inside the tent, and the night goes quiet. It’s just Esteban, Finn and Chloe left by the fire, drinking in silence, staring at the flames.

“So, what’s goin’ on there?” Finn says, tilting his head towards Max’s tent. Chloe furrows her brow.

“Nothing.”

Finn snorts. “Sure. _Nothin_’. Just _car stuff_.”

“You know what? I just checked, and this beeswax isn’t yours.”

For some reason, that makes Finn laugh. It’s not a mocking sound, or a cruel one. Finn props his chin on his good hand, studying Chloe like an amusing riddle. Or his own reflection in a funhouse mirror; familiar, but strange.

“Hey, it’s cool. I ain’t gonna narc on you. An’ Pop—he already knows, don’t he?”

Esteban tilts his drink towards Finn. “I don’t know any more than you do.”

“So, c’mon!” Finn prompts, smiling at Chloe. “Fess up! We ain’t gonna judge. This is a _safe space_.”

“You guys wouldn’t get it,” Chloe mumbles. Esteban swirls his beer, remembering Finn on that jungle gym.

“Try me,” he says.

Chloe doesn’t answer right away. She drinks her beer. Licks her lips. She takes a breath, as if to speak, then thinks better of it.

Two or three times she does this, until at last she says, “Fuck it. You guys ever hear of Arcadia Bay?”

Finn shakes his head, but the name rings familiar to Esteban. He thinks he might have read it in the paper, or heard about it in the news.

“Was that the… the one that got hit by a tornado?”

Chloe takes another long sip of beer. “Yup. That’s the one.”

Esteban tries to remember the story. A coastal town, less than a day’s drive from Seattle. A tornado wiped it out a few years back. They say it hit so hard and fast, there wasn’t even time to evacuate. A freak of nature. A national tragedy.

“Max and I grew up there,” Chloe says. “We were… We were in town when the tornado hit. We found a safe place to bunker down, but… a lot of people weren’t so lucky.”

“Shit,” Finn whispers.

Chloe knocks back her beer, taking a long sip before she continues.

“Max wants to go back there. She wants to see what’s left.” Chloe makes a derisive sound. “Like we don’t _know_ what’s left? Like we didn’t fucking see it?!”

Finn touches his wrist brace, brushing his thumb back and forth where the _Diaz_ tattoo should be. “Maybe she… Maybe she needs to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye to _what_? The fucking dirt?”

Finn shrugs. “Goodbye to… the good times, an’ the people you shared ‘em with. Maybe she wants to say… I dunno. Thank you, for bein’ what she needed, when she needed it.”

“It’s just a shell. There’s nothing left inside,” Chloe murmurs.

Discomfort radiates up Esteban’s spine, all the way up to his scalp. He shifts against the old log.

“We made a promise after the tornado hit. _No going back_. We said we’d stop living for the past, and have a goddamn future.” Chloe crushes her beer can and tosses it away. “I can’t go back there. I _won’t_.”

Yeah. That’s how it works, isn’t it? You cross a place off your map and move on to the next one, because there’s a lot of world out there only so much time to see it. Only so much film in your camera.

_Life is snapshots_, Karen would say. _Moments. We only get so many_.

She wasn’t wrong.

Chloe reaches for another beer. Esteban hands it to her, and Finn lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“Yeah. Life is a _bitch_,” he says.

“Beats the alternative,” Esteban grins, glad that Finn’s here to lighten the mood.

“I just hope I go quick,” Finn says, leaning back. “Like turnin’ off a light. I don’t wanna see that tornado comin’, you know?”

“If you see it coming, you get a chance to escape,” Esteban says.

“Sure, but like… if you can’t stop it? An’ you just gotta sit around waitin’ for it to take you out?” Finn shakes his head. “Bad way to go.”

“They’re _all_ bad ways to go,” Chloe say flatly. “But if Death’s comin’ for your ass, at least make the bitch pay for it.”

“Respect!” Finn laughs. He reaches out and shakes Esteban’s knee. “What’chu think, Pop? You rather go down swingin’, or just not see it comin’?”

“Why do those have to be my choices?” Esteban says, laughing like it’s a game. Like he’s twenty-five years younger, and death a war someone else has to fight, not a car that could slam into you at any moment. A letter on your pillow. A phone call in the middle of the night.

“I’d rather retire!” he says. “Go sit on a beach somewhere. Sleep until noon. Stay up until sunrise.”

“I’ll drink to _that_!” says Finn, and they tap their beer cans together.

*

Esteban isn’t the first to wake in the morning. He’s actually _last_.

It’s a strange sensation, stepping out of his tent and finding the camp filled with life. It makes him feel like he’s late for work.

First item on his list: Duckling check. Daniel’s building a fort for his toys out of sticks and rocks. Chris is—there he is, gathering leaves for Daniel’s house. Finn is eating cold Pop Tarts with Max and Chloe, and Sean’s…

Where’s Sean? Not in his tent; Esteban can see his empty sleeping bag through the unzipped door. He actually woke up early, for once.

“Hey, Pop!” Finn calls from the firepit. “Coffee’s on!”

“Thanks, _mijo_.”

Esteban shuffles to the campfire. It’s getting kind of filthy. There are food wrappers scattered everywhere, along with the beer cans they didn’t pick up last night. Esteban wonders if Sean saw them. Wonders if it made him jealous. If he wishes he could’ve stayed up and shared a drink with the adults.

Esteban probably would’ve let him, if he’d been nicer at the fishing spot. If he’d have shown even an ounce of maturity.

“Sean around?” Esteban asks, settling down with his cup of coffee.

“Checkin’ his messages,” Finn says. When Esteban doesn’t reply, Finn arches his brows ever slightly. “S’okay, innit?”

Esteban shrugs. “He’s a big boy. He can walk to the gas station if he wants.”

It would be nice if he asked first… but it’s not like he needs Papito’s permission to do anything. He hasn’t needed it since he was eight years old.

They’re going on a hike today. The longest one yet. Maybe too long for the boys, but Esteban wants to see if they can make it all the way to Mount Rainier. The views there are incredible; he’s positive Finn and Daniel have never seen anything like it.

“Can Max and Chloe come, too?” Daniel asks, giving Esteban his very best _baby brother_ face. Luckily, Max speaks up before Esteban crumbles.

“We really need to work on our truck. It should be finished today, right Chloe?”

Chloe shuffles. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

“You said—“

“I know what I said!” Chloe snaps. Her face instantly twists with remorse. “Sorry. I’m just… ready to move on.”

Max reaches for Chloe’s hand and squeezes it tight. “I know. You’ll figure it out.”

Chloe thanks her with a half-smile, but she doesn’t meet Max’s eye. Or Finn’s, or Esteban’s.

They waste the morning waiting for Sean to come back from the gas station. Finn reads. Max writes in her journal. Daniel brags to Chloe about the target in his backyard.

“Yeah, I used to do the same thing with bottles,” Chloe says, smiling faintly.

“You throw knives, too?”

“Nah, but I had this hella sweet pist…” Chloe stops herself. “_Paint-ball_ gun.”

“Whoa, cool!” Daniel says, and Esteban thinks maybe knives aren’t so bad after all.

As lunchtime grows closer and closer, the boys start to get impatient. Esteban, too.

“Come on,” he says, gathering up his gear and his sons. “We’ll pick up Sean on our way to the trail.”

Chloe walks with them to her truck. Esteban hangs back with her while Finn chases Chris and Daniel up the path.

“So, what are you _really_ going to do?” he asks. Chloe sighs.

“I mean—the truck _is_ kinda busted. I’ve just been dragging my ass.” She glances at Esteban. “But I’ll fix it today. And… figure out what I’m gonna tell Max.”

Esteban lays a hand on her shoulder. Chloe stiffens a little, the way Finn used to, but she doesn’t recoil.

“Just try to be honest with her,” he says, before laughing at himself. “I know that sounds cheesy—but it’s true.”

Ahead of them, Daniel makes a sound of surprise.

“Sean!”

Esteban looks up. Sure enough, Sean’s walking towards them, hands stuffed in his pockets. He isn’t listening to music, which is odd, and he doesn’t speak or wave when Daniel calls his name.

“Hey, sweetie!” Finn says. “We was just comin’ to get ‘chu! How’s—”

Finn stops short. Sean still hasn’t said anything, or even looked up. He’s just standing there with his eyes pointed down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sean murmurs.

“Nah, c’mon—what happened?”

Finn reaches for Sean, but Sean pulls away. “_Nothing_. I’m fine.”

“What’s going on?” Esteban asks, catching up at last. Sean’s jaw tightens.

“I said I’m fine.”

_Yeah, because this is how people act when nothing’s wrong_.

Esteban longs to say those exact words. Only sixteen years of practice holds him back. Patience, right? That’s Mechaban’s primary function.

“Hey, now, don’t be like that,” he says, gently, the way he’d offer his hand to a frightened dog—one that just might snap off his fingers. “Tell us what happened.”

“The Spirit Squad’s here to help!” says Chris.

Sean doesn’t reply. He just keeps staring at his feet.

Esteban sighs. Fine. If he wants to play Twenty Questions, they’ll play Twenty Questions.

“Is it Lyla? Did she blow off your messages?”

“No!” Sean says, indignant.

“Are you…” Finn shuffles against the dirt. “Are you mad ‘cause I didn’t go with you?”

“No!” Sean cries again. He takes a step backward, frustration mounting, as if it’s their fault not guessing correctly.

“Then _what_?” Esteban says.

“It was the guy at the gas station, _okay_?!”

Sean says that like it’s supposed to answer everything. Like everyone knows exactly who he’s talking about.

“What guy?” Esteban says, desperate to understand, but that only makes Sean angrier.

“I dunno! The owner, or whatever!” A sneer curls his lip. “He fucking hassled me for _loitering_.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel asks.

Sean frowns at him. “It means he didn’t want me in his store.”

“Why?”

Esteban knows why. Sean does, too. But Daniel doesn’t, yet, and that’s a whole different conversation for another time. For now—

“Finn, can you take the boys—?”

“I’ve got it,” Chloe says, stepping forward. “We’ll meet you by my truck.”

“What happened?” Daniel presses, even as Chloe herds him away. “What did Sean do?”

“He didn’t do anything, okay? Some people are just assholes.”

Chloe leads Chris and Daniel down the trail. Esteban reaches out for Sean, and to his immense relief, Sean lets him. Papito grips both of his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Esteban asks.

“I’m _fine_,” Sean says again. He stares up at Esteban with his head downturned, his jaw set and gaze defiant. “He accused me of shoplifting. Wanted me to empty out my pockets. I told him to go to hell, and he said he was gonna call the cops.”

Sean makes a strange sound, like he doesn’t care, even though his eyelashes are getting wet.

“Racist _dickhead_,” Sean sneers.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” says Finn. “I should’a been there—”

“Yeah, maybe you should’ve!” Sean says, suddenly livid. The young wolf, finally biting the outstretched hand. “But you _weren’t_, because you wanted to hang out with your new drinking buddies!”

Finn’s gaze drops to the ground. Esteban’s heart is beating really fast, and his list is getting all jumbled up. He wants to comfort Sean, and reassure Finn, and punch that gas station guy in the _face_—

“Okay, alright,” Esteban says, releasing one of Sean’s shoulders to grasp Finn as well. “Let’s calm down. Sean—”

“No!” Sean says, twisting out of Esteban’s grasp. “I’m sick of this! All of it! This whole _stupid_ vacation!”

“I know, but yelling at Finn isn’t going to help—”

Sean balls his hands into fists. “Why aren’t you _ever_ on my side?!”

“I’m not on anybody’s side,” Esteban says, reaching out again, but Sean takes another step back. “Just stop, okay? Talk to me. Tell me what you want.”

“I want to go home!”

Esteban’s heart stops. Mechaban’s gears jam in place.

Home. They can’t go home. Home is where everything speeds up, and life needs to slow down, just for a little while, just for a _minute_, before summer ends and Sean turns seventeen, and Chris goes back to Oregon—

Sean laughs bitterly. “See? It’s never about what I want. I’m at the bottom of the fucking list.”

_He’s _at the bottom?

_Sean_ is at the bottom?!

Not scary movies or drinks with Sam or video games. Not camping, or chocolate bars, or gas station coffee. _Sean_.

Sean, asleep in his room. Karen, tugging Esteban’s hand. _Come on! He won’t know! We’ll be right back_!

Finn takes a step forward. “Sean—”

“You’re no better!” Sean interrupts. “All you care about being a good _son_.”

Finn scratches at his wrist brace like an old scab, one he longs to tear off. “C’mon, Sean… That ain’t fair…”

“_I_ wanted to stay!” Sean says, pointing at himself, then jabbing his finger at Esteban. “But _Dad_ was gonna worry about us! _Dad_ needed his fucking Chock-O-Crisp!”

He’s talking about the car accident. Esteban’s text, asking them to come home. Sean must’ve wanted to ignore him. Must have wanted to stay out, smoke one more cigarette, stop at one more gas station. He didn’t care who was waiting for them at home, because they had each other and the open road.

“I have dibs!” Sean says. There are tears in his eyes, threatening to fall. “You fucking said so!”

“_That’s not how a family works_!” Esteban cries.

Sean and Finn both jolt in place, and for a brief moment, it feels _good_. Powerful. He’s their father, and his words are a thunderstorm, rattling their windows and making them hide beneath their beds.

“You don’t get _dibs_ in a family!” he says. “You don’t get to be selfish! You don’t get to have every little thing you want!”

You don’t get to stay out late, or see every movie, or eat the entire candy bar. You don’t get to jump in your car and disappear forever, because family is a lot of things, but it isn’t _freedom_.

“Family is work, and sacrifice, and responsibility. Family is _hard_, Karen!”

Karen.

_Karen_.

The word is a crack of lightning, splitting the storm in two. It is the ringing silence of an empty house; half of the bed gone cold. And whatever pleasure, whatever satisfaction Esteban derived from frightening his children dies with the deep, profound hurt now etched in Sean’s face.

“Sean—”

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you _did_.”

Sean pushes his father aside. Esteban tries to hold him back, but it’s Finn who catches Sean’s wrist.

“Sweetie, please. Let’s just… talk.”

“Let go of me, Finn.”

Sean’s voice is calm. Emotionless. He’s staring down the trail, and Esteban can’t tell if there are tears on Sean’s face, or if he’s beyond the point of crying.

Sean slips out Finn’s grasp. He walks towards their camp, and Esteban wants to call out his name, but it would just be another phone call Sean doesn’t answer, a letter with no response.

*

They don’t make it to Mount Rainier. No one is really in the mood.

Instead, they find a nice spot and just hang out for a little while. There’s a small creek with an old log stretched across it like a bridge, and Chris sits in the middle and throws sticks into the water below. Esteban helps Daniel build a boat out of twigs and leaves.

Things are quiet, but Esteban can practically hear the questions buzzing inside of Daniel, swarming like bees. He braces himself for the inevitable sting.

“Dad?”

“What is it, _mijo_?”

“Is Sean okay?”

Esteban tries to smile. “He’s fine. He just needs to be alone for a little while.”

“Why?”

Because Papito said things he shouldn’t have.

“Because he’s upset, and drawing in his sketchbook helps him feel better.”

Daniel thinks about that for a moment, and Esteban wonders what Sean is doing right now. Probably listening to music. Or smoking with Max. Planning his trip around the world.

“I don’t get why that gas station guy yelled at him,” Daniel says, looking at Esteban like he has all the answers, like there’s something Papito could say that will make everything alright.

“It’s like Chloe said,” Esteban replies. “Some people are just mean. And… they’ll judge you, before they even know you.”

Daniel gets that _look_. The one he gets when Harry Thompson picks on Daniel’s friends at school. The look that makes him want to go throw knives with Finn.

“That’s really dumb,” he says. Esteban ruffles his hair.

“Yeah. I know.”

Daniel’s boat is done. It looks pretty good. The leaves form a sail, and a strip of bark makes the rudder. Daniel hurries to show it to Chris.

If only Sean was that easy.

Finn is sitting by himself, propped against a tree trunk. He’s smoking again, silent and still, just watching the day pass him by, like he doesn’t have the strength to go with it.

He offers the cigarette box to Esteban. It takes every ounce of Mechaban’s strength to say no.

“Actually, can I borrow your knife?”

Finn hands him the blade without a word. Esteban sits next to him and takes up a large stick. He’s not very good at whittling, but it helps pass the time. Gives him something to focus on, instead of replaying the argument with Sean over and over again in his mind.

Finn watches from the corner of his eye. After several long minutes, he says, “What’chu makin’?”

“I dunno,” Esteban shrugs. “Don’t really have a plan. Just thought I’d start and… see what happens.”

Finn snorts. “That ever work out?”

“You’d be surprised,” Esteban says, allowing himself a small grin.

Finn drags on his cigarette before letting it out with a sigh. “That’s the kinda shit I was lookin’ forward to. Wood carvin’. Fishin’. I wanted’a… swim in a goodamn lake! Climb a goddamn mountain. But I can’t do _shit_, ‘cause some asshole wrecked my car.”

He turns over his bad arm, sneering at the brace. Esteban knows he can’t fix it, but his mouth opens automatically.

“We’ll try again next summer, _mijo_.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Finn takes another drag. Chris and Daniel laugh in the distance, and Finn’s head turns towards the sound. Esteban watches them, too; they look so happy, so carefree. So completely unaware that summer is almost over.

“We was… havin’ a moment, y’know?” Finn says, still looking at Chris and Daniel. “Me and Sean. Sittin’ on the hood’a my car… It was like nothin’ mattered ‘cept the two’a us.”

Karen, floating in the water. Hair like liquid gold.

“Then we got your text, an’ it was like… oh yeah, the _world_ exists, an’ there’s shit to do! I made us go home. I let that moment end.” Finn shakes his head. “We was arguin’, when that car slammed into us. S’why we didn’t see it comin’.”

No. No, of course you didn’t.

Esteban’s been down that road. He’s been in that car, sat behind that wheel, argued with the person in the passenger’s seat. He knows how easily the road vanishes. How quickly things speed up—then slam to a stop.

Those moments are awful, and terrible, and Esteban wouldn’t wish it on anyone—and yet, a part of him envies Finn, because at least Sean still argues with him, instead of just sitting there in silence.

“Pop?”

“Mm?”

“With… with Sean’s momma…” Finn swallows thickly. “Was there any warnin’? Any signs?”

Esteban takes a deep breath. “Yes. And no.”

Finn turns away from Chris and Daniel. For once, it’s Esteban who can’t meet Finn’s eye.

“I knew she was unhappy, and I knew… she had doubts, but I never thought she’d just… disappear one day.”

It was a good day, too. Lots of work in the garage—not fun, but hey, they needed the cash. Maybe they could go on a trip, all four of them. Their first vacation as a new family.

He picked up Sean from school. Daniel, from daycare. Sean was still young and silly enough that he sang along with the radio all the way home.

Esteban walked through the front door with Daniel in one hand, and a pair of keys in the other. Sean cried, _Mom! We’re home!_ but there was no answer. Esteban tried Karen’s cellphone—still no reply. He must have forgot about Book Club, or whatever.

Things got busy after that. Schoolwork. Dinner. Bath time. Esteban didn’t find the letter until much later, in those dark-sky hours when his bones go soft and everything’s supposed to slow down. And as his read each word, it was like watching a car slam into his life, a tornado he was powerless to stop.

_I wasn’t meant to be a mother. You were _meant_ to be a father_, she wrote, like it was easy for him. Like he was always going to grow into Papito, the way a caterpillar turns into a butterfly.

It wasn’t like that, though. It wasn’t natural, or effortless, for Esteban to become a father. It took practice. Patience. _Work_. He _chose_ to be a parent, and Karen _chose_ to walk away.

Esteban would give anything to tell her that.

Anything.

He looks up at last, but Finn isn’t trying to meet his eye any more. He’s picking at his wrist brace, staring at it with wet eyelashes.

“Finn?” Esteban says, squeezing the boy to his side. “No matter what happens between you and Sean, you’ll always be my son. You know that, right?”

Finn makes a strange sound, one Esteban heard that night at the playground, while Finn sat on the jungle gym and wept.

“Yeah,” he says, barely able to form the word. “Yeah, Pop, I know.”

“_Ese es mi hijo_,” Esteban says, and the way Finn smiles is all the proof of relation Esteban will ever need.

*

Esteban’s not sure what they’re going to do for dinner. He’d planned on stopping by the gas station on the way back from Mount Rainier, but no way in hell he’s giving those people any more money.

Chloe’s lying on the hood of her truck, tapping on her phone. When Chris and Daniel run up to her, she holds out both of her hands, and they give her a double high-five.

“All good?” Esteban asks, meaning her truck.

“All good,” Chloe echoes.

“Do you know what you’re gonna tell Max?”

Chloe slides off the engine and lands ungracefully, rocking her whole body like a pocket full of loose change. “_Nope_.”

Esteban tries to smile for her. He knows the kind of night she’s going to have; the long, difficult conversation ahead of her. He’s in for something similar with Sean, and just like Chloe, Esteban has no idea how he’s going to make it right.

“Just…”

Esteban scratches at his chin, carefully considering his next words. Like far too much of Esteban’s advice, he simply tells Chloe what he, himself, needs to hear.

“Just make sure you say everything you need to say.”

While you can.

Back at camp, they find Max sorting through a dozen polaroids. Sean isn’t with her. Probably in his tent with his earbuds plugged in, oblivious or indifferent to their return.

Max smiles, though, and waves to the group. At least someone is happy to see them.

“Ooh! Cool photos!” Chris says, kneeling down to see. Daniel points to one and makes a jealous, almost _offended_ sound.

“You saw a raccoon?! Lucky!”

“Yeah, he was pretty cute! You can have it, if you want.”

“Whoa! Thanks, Super Max!”

Daniel snatches up the photo, then waves it under Papito’s nose. He’s so happy, Esteban almost wishes they really could have a raccoon for a pet.

Chloe takes Max by the hand and tries to guide her away from the camp. But Max doesn’t follow, too preoccupied with her photos.

“How’s the truck?” she asks, distracted.

“We, uh…” Chloe rocks her shoulders. “We’re all set.”

_That_ gets Max’s attention. She jumps up and throws her arms around Chloe.

“Really? Oh, Chloe! I knew you could do it!”

Chloe staggers, overwhelmed. “Y-Yeah… Max, listen… Can we talk?”

“Of course!” Max says. She’s absolutely beaming, which only makes Chloe look more guilty.

“Aww, are you leaving?” Daniel interjects. “We were gonna make s’mores!”

Max laughs and starts to say something, until Finn calls to them from his tent.

“Hey, Max? Where’s Sean?”

“What do you mean?” Max says, leaning around Chloe to frown at Finn.

“Did he say where he was goin’?”

Max’s brow wrinkles. “I haven’t seen him.”

What?

Everything stops—except it doesn’t. Finn jogs towards the group, and Daniel grabs his father’s hand—but Esteban is frozen in place, his whole body turned to iron and rust, because if he moves, if he even _thinks_, he’ll crumble into a hundred pieces.

“He didn’t come back to camp?” Finn asks.

“I… I don’t know,” Max replies, suddenly looking very, very small. “I left to take pictures… He could’ve come back while I was gone?”

“Maybe he left a note,” Esteban says, because his mouth is still working, somehow, like a puppet, a dummy made of hard, varnished wood.

“Tent’s empty,” Finn replies. “_Shit_…”

“What’s going on? Where’s Sean?” Daniel asks.

“He’s fine, _mijo_,” Esteban says—another automatic response. It’s like Mechaban has taken over his body, making him say calm, measured things while everything else inside of him screams.

“He just wants to be alone for a while, remember? Why don’t you…”

Why don’t you _what_? Esteban can’t think of anything. There’s no answer, nothing he can do to fix it, nothing he can say to make it right.

“Why don’t you make a surprise for him?” Max says. “Something to cheer him up when he gets back? I’ll help you.”

Daniel glances at Chris. They both look unsure.

“Like a… a drawing?” Chris offers.

“Sure!” Max says. She drums her fingers on her camera. “We could even take a few a pictures!”

That doesn’t get the reaction she wants, but it does help distract the boys. The moment they’re out of earshot, Esteban covers his face with both hands.

_Damnit_.

“You think he went for a walk?” Chloe asks.

It doesn’t matter.

“A smoke?”

_It doesn’t matter_.

He could go to his room. The porch. Beaver Creek. _It does not matter_. He’s just going to keep doing this, again and again, until one day he just doesn’t come back.

“Lyla!” Finn says suddenly. “Holy _shit_, he went to see Lyla!”

“Who?”

“His friend works a summer camp ‘round here. I bet’chu anythin’ that’s where he went!”

Esteban can feel Finn looking him. He lowers his hands.

“Maybe.”

Chloe digs in her pocket, revealing a set of keys. “You know where it is? I’ll take you.”

Sure. _That’ll_ go over well. Papito, kicking down the door, dragging out his sixteen-year-old son by the ear.

“Finn should go,” Esteban sighs. “He… You guys can talk to him. Make sure he gets back safe.”

God, he sounds tired. He feels it, too. He’d lie down right here, right in the dirt, if he didn’t have to be strong for his sons.

Finn touches Esteban’s shoulder. Esteban stares at his hand—all those rings and tattoos, reaching out to comfort him.

Wait. Isn’t this supposed to be the other way around?

“We’ll bring ‘im back,” Finn promises. He sounds so certain. So _sure_. Like Chris at that picnic table, convinced that his mother carved all those names. Esteban doesn’t have the heart to contradict him.

“I know,” Esteban replies. “I’ll be here.”

He hasn’t gone anywhere in sixteen years.

*

Sean is seven years old. Second grade. His bedroom is papered with drawings of Mommy and Daddy, and when Esteban tucks him in, Sean begs for a bedtime story, then another, then a third and fourth.

Esteban indulges him, even though it’s kind of annoying. There are things he’d much rather do—after hours, you know?—but Sean is just so cute, just so sweet. There’s nothing Sean asks for that he doesn’t give back a hundred-fold in kisses and crayons.

It’s late when Esteban finally turns off Sean’s light. The house is quiet and Karen is… not on the couch. Or in their room.

He finds her on the porch, sitting with her knees drawn to her chest. She’s not smoking, though, which is strange, and in two weeks Esteban will find out that she’s pregnant again, with another kid they didn’t plan, another unexpected miracle.

But he doesn’t know that now, and when he sits next to her, she doesn’t say anything. For a long time, they just watch the stars.

Esteban stretches. He really should get started on his homework. He’ll never have his own garage if he doesn’t get certified.

Karen grabs his wrist.

_Stay_, she says.

And he does. Of course he does. But Karen doesn’t let go of his wrist.

She kisses him. It’s a sad kiss, almost lonely, and Esteban doesn’t know why. If something’s wrong, she hasn’t told him. It’s hard for her to say what she’s thinking.

Karen stands up. She tugs on Esteban’s hand until he stands up, too.

_Come on_, she says.

What? Why? Where are they going?

_Gas station_! she says playfully. She’s got that smile—that She-Wolf smile. His bad girl. His _loba_.

_Come on! It’s just down the street_!

No, Karen— We can’t—

_We’ll get coffee! You need it to study, right? Come on_!

But Sean—

_He’s asleep! He won’t even know_!

Esteban plants his feet. No. _Stop_. They can’t just _go_. They can’t just leave their son!

Karen’s hand tightens around his wrist. _Please. I need you. Just this once, be on _my_ side_.

Esteban doesn’t understand. What does she mean? Why do there have to be _sides_? Why can’t they all just be together?

He tells her that they have ice cream in the fridge. They can sit on the couch together on eat right out of the carton. No dishes to clean! Come on. He got mint chocolate-chip, Karen’s favorite. Picked it out just for her when he did the grocery shopping.

_God_! Karen says, suddenly livid. _Do you even hear yourself? Grocery lists? Dishes? Is that all you want out of life_?

No, but—these things have to get done. Dinner doesn’t just happen on its own.

_I need more than_ this_!_ Karen says, gesturing at the house. Their house. The one they picked out together.

He reaches for her. Hey. Hey, _loba_. Come on. What’s wrong?

She draws back. _I’m just a shell. There’s nothing left inside of me_.

And Esteban doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to fix this. Doesn’t understand what the gas station has that she can’t find right here, at home.

Karen takes another step back. And another. She turns around, and walks down the street, into the night.

And Esteban stands there on the porch, wishing he had the courage to go with her.

*

It isn’t hard to find a cigarette. Sean has plenty in his backpack. Esteban probably could’ve found a joint if he’s looked hard enough, but he doesn’t want to see what else is buried at the bottom of Sean’s bag.

The boys are asleep. Still, Esteban walks to the edges of camp before he lights up. He stands under the tree that Finn spray-painted and stares up the stars, dragging slowly on his cigarette and releasing his smoke in long, white streams.

He thinks about the other planets out there, somewhere among the stars. They’re just as big as this planet—bigger, even—and just as unique, but they’re so far away, Esteban can’t even see them.

Leaves rustle. Twigs snap beneath someone’s shoes. Esteban looks down, and sees Max walking towards him.

“Hey,” she says, lifting her hand. Esteban mirrors the gesture.

She stops just in front of him. He wonders if she’s finally going to take his picture. Portrait of A Lonely Old Man.

She could probably win awards with that one. Maybe Esteban will hang in a gallery, someday.

“I’m sure Sean’s okay,” Max says.

“Thanks,” Esteban murmurs. He drags on his cigarette.

“But that’s not what you’re worried about, is it?”

Esteban wonders if Daniel talked to her, or if his family’s problems are really just that obvious.

Max shuffles. Brushes her hair behind her ear. “Do you want to talk about it?”

_No_.

The word comes so quickly to mind, Esteban almost laughs at himself. Now who’s acting like a teenager?

He lifts his shoulders and lets them drop. “Sean is just… so much like his mother.”

“Was she distant, too?”

“Yeah. She was… a lot like you, actually. A photographer. Traveler.” Esteban looks down. Turns over a stone with the toe of his boot. “She wanted to capture the world.”

“What happened to her?”

“Oh, you know.” Esteban taps his cigarette. It’s getting real low. He wishes he’d taken the entire pack. “She needed to be her own person. Live her own life.”

Max exhales. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, I get it,” Esteban says, shrugging again. “Kids, you know… They hollow you out. They take everything you have, and they don’t always give back.”

They leave you behind like an empty cocoon. An eggshell. A quiet house.

“And that’s natural,” Esteban says, nearly laughing at himself, like this all some big, cosmic joke. “That’s _life_. Kids are supposed to grow up, leave the nest… Whatever. That’s what I did. What _you_ did. Right?”

Max nods. She grips the strap of her satchel like some sort of lifeline, tethering her to the ground, like she might just float away without it.

“Hey—I’m sorry.” Esteban reaches out to pat her arm. “I shouldn’t put all of this on you.”

“No, I… I asked.” Max meets Esteban’s eye and gives him that shy, devasting smile. “I want to help, if I can. You… remind me of someone.”

Esteban raises his brow, as if to say, _Who_?

“Chloe’s dad,” Max says, her smile growing. “He was good with cars, too. And he cooked. And—” Max lets out a quiet laugh, “—made really dumb jokes.”

“Hey!” Esteban says, gripping his heart as if gravely wounded.

“He died in a car accident, when Chloe and I were really young. He just went out one day and… didn’t come back.”

Her smile wavers. Esteban drops his gaze. He remembers how Chloe touched Chris’ hair, dyed the same shade of blue as her own.

“Being with you… is like being with him again,” Max says. “It feels like… like maybe he didn’t disappear. Maybe he just… evolved. Took a new shape.”

Her voice is so soft, like a message from far away, a bottle washed up on shore. Esteban pops the cork and reads the letter inside, carefully considering each word.

Max sees someone in him, the same way Esteban sees Karen in her, or Finn in Chloe. Maybe that’s why he wanted to help them so badly, and why they trusted him so easily.

For some reason, that makes Esteban feel… better. Like he has someone. Like he’s not alone.

“What would he do, if he was here now?” Esteban asks. “If… If Chloe wouldn’t talk to him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Max says instantly. “He’s not here. _You_ are. You still have a choice. Don’t take that for granted.”

She looks stern. Determined. The map, charted. The way ahead, clear. And for the first time in a long time, Esteban doesn’t feel like an ancient creature, but a fellow traveler on the road, walking his path, finding his way.

He’s not done yet. There’s still a lot more road to see. A lot more film in his camera. A lot more love to give.

“What are _you_ going to do about?” says Max. Esteban drops his cigarette, and grinds it into the dirt.

“I’m going to go to bed,” he replies. “And get a good night’s sleep.”

He has a lot to do in the morning.

*

Esteban wakes up early.

The rest of the camp is quiet. The sun, only just beginning to rise. It feels like the world is on the brink of something. The end of summer—the beginning of something new.

Esteban unzips the door of Finn and Sean’s tent. Both of them are asleep, their limbs splayed out in pure exhaustion. They’re still wearing their shoes, and the same clothes from yesterday. They probably just got back from the party.

Sean groans when Esteban shakes his foot, and tries to kick him away. Esteban shakes him harder.

Sean opens his eyes. The sight of his father makes him jerk backwards, but he doesn’t shout. Doesn’t wake up Finn.

Esteban tilts his head, as if to say, _Let’s go_.

Sean hesitates. When Esteban stands up, he isn’t entirely sure that Sean will follow.

But he does.

*

The last time they were in a canoe, Esteban gave Sean his lighter.

That was two summers ago. Sean was almost fifteen, and he was mad at Esteban, because he’d just been caught sneaking cigarettes on the porch with Lyla.

Esteban knew that’s what Sean would use the lighter for. But Esteban gave it to him anyway, because he thought maybe the next time Sean lit a cigarette, he’d see the words _Puerto Lobos_ and… make good choices, instead of bad ones.

Today, the river is quiet. Calm. Another beautiful day, with blue skies and still winds. Esteban sets his oar aside and sits back, facing Sean, but not really looking at him.

Sean does something similar, across the canoe. Their knees are almost touching.

Neither one of them speaks for a very long time. Papito breaks the silence.

“How’s Lyla?”

No reply. Papito tries again.

“Did you… have fun at the party?”

More silence. In Esteban’s periphery, Sean motions vaguely with his hands.

“Not really.”

“Mm.”

Esteban watches the water. Dragonflies grace the surface, leaving behind little ripples, and he wonders what would happen if he stood up right now and tipped over their canoe. Would Sean laugh and shiver beneath his towel, or would he complain about his phone? His hair?

“Do you even _care_ that I left?”

“Oh, Sean.” Esteban tries to look at his son, but Sean stares at the shoreline. “Of _course_ I do. But I can’t… I can’t _stop_ you from growing up. Or making your own choices. I can only… be here, when you get back.”

Sean blinks a few times. His lashes are wet again. It’s difficult to tell if his walls are crumbling, or just getting higher.

Esteban reaches for him anyway. He lays a hand on Sean’s knee.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I wasn’t yelling at you; I was yelling at your mother. That wasn’t fair.”

Sean draws away. He slides his knee out of Esteban’s grasp and leans backwards. Esteban does the same—not because he wants to, but because Sean needs the space.

“You haven’t said her name in ten years,” Sean murmurs.

Esteban’s mouth opens to reply—but there is no response. There’s nothing automatic about this conversation, no map to follow. He and Sean are finding this road together, one cautious step at a time.

Sean speaks instead. His words are choked. Difficult. He swallows hard, and his throat bobs from the effort.

“Everything I hate about myself, I get from her.”

Those words are a hand wrapped around Esteban’s wrist, tugging him across the lawn. Esteban plants his feet. No. Stop.

“Sean—”

“Everything… _you_ hate about me…”

“_Sean_.”

Esteban takes both of Sean’s hands. Holds him tight. Anchors him in place.

“I could never hate you.”

Sean shakes his head, doubtful. “I know that I get on your nerves, and piss you off—”

“I still wouldn’t change you, _mijo_.” Esteban squeezes Sean’s hands. “Not one, single thing about you.”

Not even the hard things. The difficult things. The closed doors, the long silences. As much as they hurt, the empty house hurts more. The unanswered phone calls. Those cut more deeply than anything Sean could ever do or say.

“I wish…”

Sean shakes his head again. _Forget it_, that gesture says, just like before, when they first arrived at camp and Sean stared at the canoes. Esteban grips him tighter; he won’t let this moment slip away.

“Tell me,” he says. “Please, _mijo_.”

Another shake of the head. Another long stretch of silence. Everything is still, as if the whole river is waiting for Sean to speak. Their canoe hardly moves at all.

“I wish things could be like they were. When camping was… our thing. You and me.”

Our thing?

Does he mean…

“¿_Padre e hijo_?”

“Yeah,” Sean says. He wipes a flat palm across his cheek. “Pretty fucking selfish, right?”

“I… I dunno,” Esteban replies, thinking of all those treats for Sean that were really for himself. “It would’ve been fun—”

“Don’t.” Sean makes a face, like Daniel when Papito accidentally calls him _nine_ instead of _ten_. “Don’t pretend that things haven’t changed. Our family is… different now. It’s never gonna be just you and me ever again.”

No.

No, it’s not.

“Is that a bad thing?” Esteban asks, thinking of canoes and mint chocolate-chip ice cream.

“No,” Sean says. “But that’s the _point_. This whole trip reminded me that shit changes. Nothing stays the same.”

Sean stares over Esteban’s shoulder, down the river, to a destination he can’t even see.

“It’s like, I can’t even enjoy it. Our new family. Because even though it’s happening right now, it’s… already over, you know? I’ve already lost it. Chris is gonna go back to Oregon. Me and Lyla are gonna graduate. And Finn… who knows.”

Sean sighs, overwhelmed with the possibility of it all, the many paths stretched out before him.

“When does it stop? Where’s the… the finish line?”

He wants…

He wants to go home.

He wants to _rest_.

“Maybe…” Esteban says, slowly, carefully. “Maybe this _is_ the finish line.”

A line creases Sean’s brow. He doesn’t understand. That’s okay—Esteban barely understands, too. This is something new on the horizon, something he and Sean are discovering side-by-side.

“Maybe it’s not about stopping. Nothing ever _stops_. But sometimes, we can find places… to slow down.”

Whiskey with Finn. Stories with Chris and Daniel. Sean, tipping over their canoe. Those were all gas stations along the road. Rest, retirement—it’s _now_. It’s everywhere.

“Life is… snapshots,” Esteban says. “Moments, and the people we share them with. The people we _choose_ to share them with.”

He’s not a father because he _has_ to be.

He’s a father because he chooses it. Because he’d rather watch his sons grow, than see anything else in the world.

And when they do grow up—when they leave him behind—Esteban won’t be empty, because loving them fills him to bursting.

“That’s how I know you’re gonna be okay, _mijo_. You _see_ people. You brought Finn into our house. You brought your grandparents back into our lives. You… fill up your heart like sketches in a notebook.”

Esteban chuckles at himself. That probably sounds cheesy. Sean must like it, though, because his cheeks are wet with tears.

“Do you remember your first drawing?” Esteban asks.

“Y-Yeah,” Sean replies, half-smiling at the memory. “It was a crappy picture of you.”

“Exactly. That’s something your mother never did. She never took my photo. But you did, the second you got a crayon in your hand.”

He cups Sean’s face. Wipes his tears away with the stroke of a thumb, and waits for Sean to meet his eye.

“Even then, you were better than her,” he says firmly, in his very best Papito voice. Not the kind that rattles windows and frightens little boys, but the kind that clears stormclouds, and brings the ship home safe from sea.

“In the ways that matter, you’re not like her at all—or even your dear old Dad. You’re _Sean_. And that’s all I ever want you to be.”

Sean lets out a dry sob. His mouth contorts and his eyes wrench shut, and suddenly he’s in Esteban’s arms, and Esteban is stroking his hair, whispering soft words, telling him everything is going to be alright. Their canoe wobbles and threatens to tip over, but somehow, they remain upright, rocking back and forth on gentle waves.

“I love you, Dad,” Sean says, trembling like he’s a little kid again. Maybe he still is, deep down. Maybe that piece of him will never really go away, the same way _Dad_ never disappears from Esteban.

“I love you too, _hijo_.”

*

There’s a surprise waiting for them back at camp. Daniel shoves a cardboard box into Sean’s hands, jumping with excitement.

“It’s a treasure chest!” he says.

Ah, right. Esteban can see it now. The colorful jewels scribbled on its side; the skull and crossbones on its lid. Sean turns it over in his hands.

“It’s empty,” he says.

“Yeah, ‘cause we gotta fill it!” Daniel explains. “Then we’ll bury it in the woods, just like _real_ pirates!”

Daniel squirms as Sean considers this. He looks like a little pup, waiting for a pat on the head. Every inch of Esteban wants to say, _That’s great, mijo_! but he holds himself back.

Barely.

“Pretty cool, right?” Daniel says. “I mean… Chris drew most of it, but it was _my_ idea.”

Sean bobs his head as half his mouth quirks into a smile. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool, _enano_.”

Daniel bursts into a grin. He grabs Sean’s hand, tugging him towards Chris. “Come on! Let’s find some treasure!”

Everyone adds at least one thing; some trinket dug out of their pockets, or picked off the ground. A sketch. A photograph. A stone from the river. A button. A beer can. A pinecone.

Esteban thinks really hard about what he wants to add. What his treasure should be. He has an idea… but he’ll need a little help.

“Sean?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Can I have a cigarette?”

Sean hesitates. Esteban can actually see the lie forming on his lips. _I don’t have any cigarettes, ask Finn_.

But in the end, Sean doesn’t say anything at all. He just pulls the cigarettes out of his backpack and hands one to Esteban.

They bury the box under Finn’s tree—the one he spray-painted. A long, jagged X now covers his target, carved deep into the bark of the tree.

“Like a pirate map, right?” Chloe says, nodding at the X.

“Oh!” Daniel replies, like that only just occurred to him. “No, we were thinking… like the Spirit Squad.”

He crosses his arms into the Spirit Signal. Super Max and Captain Chloe imitate him, and the rest of the squad does the same—even rusty old Mechaban.

Now they’re official members of the team.

*

Max and Chloe leave that afternoon.

Finn says they talked, while Sean and Esteban were on the river. He saw them at the edges of camp; Max, looking sad; Chloe, looking guilty.

“It ended in a hug,” Finn says. “Y’know… not that I was watchin’ or nothin’.”

Esteban laughs, watching Chris and Daniel cling to Max while Chloe loads their gear into the truck. When she’s done, the kids jump on her instead; Finn joins them, and Chloe screams in faux anguish. Sean stands back and grins brighter than Esteban’s seen in a very long time.

Max breaks away from the group. The satchel is still slung over her shoulder, but the camera is nowhere to be seen. Esteban puts away any ideas of a last-minute photograph.

“Thank you,” she says. “For… everything.”

Esteban shuffles. It feels weird to accept any thanks, after lying to her for so long.

“_De nada_. I’m sorry for not telling you the truth.”

“No, it’s fine,” Max says, touching his arm and giving it a squeeze. “I understand. Chloe put you in a tough position. She can be… reckless, sometimes.”

Esteban laughs. “Yeah, I got that.”

They linger in silence for a moment. Chloe is showing off all the graffiti in her truck—and letting the boys add to it.

“Hey…” Esteban says, scratching at his chin. “It’s none of my business, but… What did you guys decide? About Arcadia Bay?”

“We, um…” Max considers her words for a moment. “We’re gonna hold off on that. I still need to go there, but… We can take our time with it. I can wait until we’re _both_ ready.”

“Why do you need to go back there?” Esteban asks, thinking of Karen and Beaver Creek; the big, blank hole in her map. The snapshots she’d already taken. The memories she didn’t want to relive.

Max hesitates. Whatever she’s thinking, she can’t quite put the words together.

“I want the picture to change,” she says at last.

The…

The what?

“When I close my eyes…” Max continues, “I can see Arcadia Bay. It’s broken, and empty, and… _awful_. The photograph won’t change.”

She inhales deeply. “But people change. Places, too. Whatever Arcadia Bay looks like now, it’s not the same as the photograph in my head. Something will be there. Something new. Maybe not ice cream shops, or… diners with amazing waffles, but something. A flower. A tree.”

Max smiles at Esteban then—not a shy smile, or a laughing smile, but one far warmer than that. A smile filled with hope.

“I _need_ to see it. If I don’t, Arcadia Bay will never move on. And neither will I.”

Esteban watches his sons in the distance, scribbling all over Chloe’s dashboard. Each one of them was a surprise—a car, smashing into his life. Whatever destination he was driving towards, whatever he thought his future was going to be, changed with every one of his children.

They changed his life. They changed _him_.

But not Karen.

She couldn’t let go. She couldn’t _let herself_ change. She couldn’t stop mourning the life she lost, couldn’t see herself as anything but a smashed car, a ruined town. She couldn’t let something new grow in its place. She couldn’t let the picture change.

And now, wherever she is—that’s what she’ll be, forever. Esteban’s not the one she left behind, but her own damn future.

“I hope Sean is like you,” Esteban says, still watching his sons. “I hope he wants to come back, after he finds himself. I want… I want to see the person he grows into.”

Max is quiet beside him. Then, after a pause, he can feel her turn to look at him.

“What do you know about butterflies?” she asks.

Esteban laughs, faintly. “Not much.”

“They _liquefy_ inside their cocoons,” Max says, lowering her voice like she’s telling Esteban a bedtime story. It actually works—Esteban tears his eyes away from Sean, and stares down at Max.

“Really!” she says. “They turn into caterpillar soup, then reform as butterflies. But somehow… they remember everything from before. _Everything_. Where to find food. What dangers to avoid.”

Max digs around in her satchel, still telling her story. “They’re really strong, too. They can cross entire continents. A single butterfly will travel hundreds of miles over the course of its life. But they always…”

Max finds what she’s looking for: A stack of photos, which she hands to Esteban.

“Go back to where they were born.”

Esteban takes the photos.

And chokes back a sob.

There, in his palm, Esteban sees himself, walking down the road with Daniel. Showing Chris how to cast his fishing line. Cooking cornbread with Finn. Smiling at Sean.

“I don’t think they’ll ever outgrow you,” Max says.

There are tears in Esteban's eyes—and on his cheeks. He’s old enough that he doesn’t care who sees him cry.

“Max, _thank you_. You… You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Keep them,” she says, pushing the photos towards his chest. “Please. You need them more than I do.”

Esteban half laughs, half sobs. “You’re getting hugged now. It’s Hug Time.”

Max throws open her arms to accept.

There are a lot more hugs after that. Chloe holds Esteban tighter than _Finn_—she nearly crushes the air from his lungs.

“Thanks, Dad,” she says into his chest. He’s pretty sure she’s not talking to him.

“Bye!” Daniel calls, waving both of his arms as the truck rolls away. “_Byeeeeee_!”

Chris is crying. Esteban, too. He hasn’t stopped since Max gave him the photos.

“Do you think we’ll ever see them again?” Daniel asks.

“Yeah,” Esteban says, because there’s been a lot of goodbyes in his life, and he’s starting to figure which ones are forever, and which ones are _for now_. “Yeah, I think we will.”

*

“Tomorrow’s our last day,” Daniel says, tossing another pinecone into the fire. “What’re we gonna do?”

“What do you _want_ to do?” Esteban counters.

“Mm… I dunno.”

Esteban looks around the group for ideas. No one responds. Chris is helping Daniel burn pinecones; Sean and Finn are sharing the same blanket.

One more night, together, gathered around the campfire. One more night before things speed up again, and all the little planets drift off into their own orbits.

Another pinecone hits the fire. Embers swirl up into the starry sky. Esteban watches them and thinks… Maybe he can’t see the other planets, but at least he can share the same sun.

He starts singing. It’s as much a surprise to Esteban as it is to his children.

“_Estrellita,_ _¿dónde estás?_”

The tune is old and familiar. Even in a different language, Chris and Finn know what it means.

_Little star, where are you_?

Soon, they’re all singing. Some in English, some _en Español_. It doesn’t matter that Finn’s hand is broken, or that the boys are only ten, or that Esteban is nearly fifty—this is something they can all do. Together. Right now.

It’s a beautiful picture.

And he’s in it.

*

“You, uh… You sure this ain’t stealin’?”

Finn jangles at Esteban’s side. He’s excited, but nervous—like this is all a test. A trap. Too good to be true.

“Nah,” Esteban says. “It’s… recycling!”

Finn snorts, and they get to work. The dusty old car at Trout Spring Trail hasn’t gone anywhere; Finn’s handprints are still on the window. Esteban pops the hood and pokes around in the engine. Besides a bit of rust, it’s actually in real good shape.

Finn, meanwhile, unlocks the door. It’s not difficult, with the window rolled halfway down; all Finn has to do is reach inside and grip the handle.

“Hells yeah!” he cries. “There’s a Chock-O-Crisp on the dashboard!”

“Save it for Daniel!” Esteban calls from the engine.

Finn laughs. Esteban can hear him shuffling around, cleaning out the garbage. Then—

“No way! No _fuckin’_ way!” 

“_Two_ Chock-O-Crisps?” Esteban grins.

“The _keys_, Pop! They left the goddamn _keys_!”

Finn’s by his side in an instant, dangling the car keys in Esteban’s face.

“I told you!” Finn says, grinning like a little kid—one who finally got the puppy he’s been begging for. “It’s fuckin’ _fate_! Someone _wants_ me to have ‘er!”

Yeah. Guess so.

Finn fumbles with his pocket, pulling out the blue rabbit’s foot.

“Here, Pop, can you help me out…?”

Esteban puts the rabbit’s foot on Finn's new keyring. As he hands it back, something warm washes over Esteban, like crystal waters on white sand. Mamá, feeding everyone at her table. Tio Eduardo, breaking the chocolate bar in half.

“Finn? Do you remember what you asked me in the impound lot?”

Finn blinks. He looks surprised—like no one has ever bothered to remember his words.

“About… things stayin’?”

“Yeah. I think… I think I know the answer now.”

Esteban stares at the rabbit’s foot. The fur dyed blue, just like Finn’s hair. And Chloe’s, and Chris. All those children, looking for what they’ve lost. A mother’s name, carved into a picnic table. A stranger who works on cars, just like Pop. Just like Dad.

“Everything stays,” Esteban says. “Even the… the hard things. The things that hurt. And you can either let it rust… or you can fill it with life.”

He doesn’t know if that's what Finn needs to hear. He doesn’t even know if it makes sense. But not every candy bar is for his children, and sometimes, the advice he gives them is really for himself.

But Finn is smiling, and the keys are bouncing in his hand.

“C’mon. Let’s go home.”

*

They meet at the Ranger’s station. The gravel parking lot, where they left Sam's van.

Chris and Daniel aren’t very impressed with Finn’s new car—but they have fun dragging their fingers through the dirt, writing _Wash Me!_ and _Don’t Mess With Power Bear_! while Esteban loads their gear into the van.

And then… that’s it. Vacation over. Time to go.

Sean offers to help with the directions.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Esteban shrugs. “I’d rather you drive Finn’s car. I’m still not convinced he can do it with one hand.”

“Yeah, okay. If you’re sure,” Sean says.

“I’m sure. Just be safe, okay?”

“_Okay_,” Sean says, sounding annoyed, but maybe less than he would have at the beginning of the week.

“Maybe when we get back… we can go for a run, or something,” Esteban suggests. “_Padre e hijo_.”

“Maybe,” Sean echoes. A small grin crosses his face. “If you promise to lay off the Dad Jokes.”

“You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep!”

Sean hugs him—briefly—before jogging to Finn’s car. He shoos Chris and Daniel away.

“Hey, Dad,” Daniel asks, as he climbs into the van. “Can we listen to your music on the way home?”

“You got it, Danny-boy!”

Sean and Finn are already rolling out of the parking lot. Esteban can hear their radio, cranked all the way to eleven. Chris and Daniel are in the van, buckled in, laughing—but Esteban doesn’t join them until his oldest sons have faded away.

They’re gone. He can’t see them.

But that’s okay, because no matter where they go, no matter how far they travel, they’ll remember where they were born.

They’ll come back to the same counter.

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest and warmest of hugs to everyone on the Sean/Finn Discord server. My laddies! Thank you so much for always being there for me, and encouraging me, for tolerating my never-ending salt, and for helping me sort my emotions after Episode 4. I know this fic probably isn't what you had in mind when you suggested, "Esteban takes his kids camping," but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!
> 
> Every fic in this series has been its own unique joy, but this one was special because of the guest appearances! Max and Chloe were such a thrill to write; I enjoyed thinking about what they'd be like three years after the destruction of Arcadia Bay, and how they'd interact with all the new characters of Life Is Strange 2. I think my favorite interaction was between Sean and Max... Our two protagonists, finally meeting, comparing maps. I think Max and Sean walk a very similar path, and I took particular joy in bringing them together. What was your favorite crossover duo?!
> 
> Can I just say that I love Esteban? He's such a loving, supportive guy (a lot like Finn, tbh) and it was really important to me to show that it isn't *easy* for him. There are million things he'd rather do than be Dad--he'd rather play video games than make dinner, or help Daniel with his homework, or fold all the laundry. He's human, just like the rest of us! He wasn't "meant" to be a father--he *chooses* to be one. He chose to let himself change. He chose to let his children change him.
> 
> I know, it can be hard to change. It can be hard to lose things, and let them go. But I do believe that nothing in this world ever really dies; it just grows into something new. Whatever the tornado takes from you, you'll find again. It'll grow. It'll change. Let yourself change with it--and you'll end up with good surprises.


End file.
